Vengeance
by TammiTam
Summary: Vengeance: punishment inflicted in retaliation for an injury or offense. Dean and Sam are about to learn the meaning of the word well. Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective and Fired up Pissed!Dean
1. Chapter 1

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I don't own Sam or Dean … if I did, I wouldn't be here writing, I'd be … preoccupied!

Thanks to all that left me wonderful reviews on my first story (New Kid)! It inspired me to continue writing.

A Special Thanks to my friend Charlene for offering me so much encouragement!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

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The bitter chill seemed to penetrate Dean's flesh, making even his blood run cold, sending shivers up his spine. The bite from the frigid breeze didn't help matters one bit.

"Remind me that our next hunt is definitely in Florida."

And out came the Sammy eye roll as he chuckled at his brother. Even as he did, Sam pulled his coat tighter around him and shivered. It _was _cold.

"As if a Sasquach would be in Florida."

"Well, maybe we can go after one of those alligators that got flushed down the toilet. Catch some sun while we're there. You know, I hear the babes are really smoking down there!"

Dean gave one of his cocky, shit-eating grins and Sam gave his brother his patent approved Bitch Face!

"You know Dean, if you actually thought with your upstairs brain … "

Before Sam could finish the woods ended to a large clearing that, if they didn't know better, looked like something off a Hallmark card. It was white and pristine, the slight wind blowing small flakes of snow about. Everything looked calm and peaceful … except the large tracks marring the otherwise virgin snow.

The brothers gave each other the look … the one that said volumes without a word uttered. Nodding, as if there had been some sort of communication between them, Sam took the right side and Dean ventured left.

Tugging his jacket tighter for a minute, Dean held his gun ready, poised for anything to happen. Glancing across, he caught sight of Sam for just a minute before all traces of him disappeared behind the trees. A smile graced his lips; his brother was just as good as he at staying hidden, they had been taught by the best after all. John Winchester might not have been the perfect father, but he taught both his sons how to take care of themselves in even the direst of situations.

Glancing back to his own self-made trail, Dean laid his steps carefully, each one settled slowly so as not to disturb anything and make noise to alert the creature they were hunting. Moving behind a tree, he peered out the other side just as another small gust of wind blew at his back.

Another soft step was taken before a bellow came from the trees, all but making them shake with the intensity of the sound. The inhuman beast they were hunting might not have been able to see them, but that small amount of wind carried Dean's scent right to it.

Another roar was heard before the creature burst from the trees, sending one pine tree to topple to the snow covered ground with a large crack. White fur kept it warm, even in the coldest of climates, its layer of pure muscle made just one shot less than effective.

Coming out from the cover of trees, Dean raised his gun, waiting to fire until the creature got closer, if he shot now he was going to do nothing but piss it off. He didn't see Sam race from his hiding spot, though he knew he was there, he could hear the snow crunching as Sam raced to get in position behind their deadly prey.

When the Sasquach got close, two shots rang out, echoing amidst the growling roars of the beast. One from in front of the monster and one from behind leaving the white, shaggy coat splattered with red where the bullet to its chest penetrated.

Without hesitating, Dean took deadly aim, and with an accuracy trained directly from John Winchester, Dean fired four more shots that hit their mark, but unfortunately didn't drop the supernatural animal. As it closed in, Dean yelled out his brother's name, his gun firing one more time before a massive paw struck, hurling Dean through the air to land with a sickening thud against a tree.

Blackness tried to take him, to claim him and send him to a certain death, but the hunter in Dean refused to fall prey to a Sasquach, especially like this. No, if he were going to die today, he was going out fighting.

The creature barreled toward him even as Dean reached for the fallen weapon, his whole body screaming in protest.

"SAM! A little help here!"

For one split second Dean wondered the lack of his brother, and then the Sasquach was within striking distance. Letting out a mighty roar, it raised a paw, preparing to strike the man that hurt it and finish him off.

Despite the cold, sweat dripped off his brow. The moment seemed surreal and in slow motion, as if Dean was wrapped up in the throes of a nightmare. The kind where no matter how fast you run, the thing chasing you always catches you … right before you wake up.

Dean wanted to wake up now!

His fingers gripped the gun, curling around the still warm metal like a lifeline, nearly caressing his weapon as if it were a lover. The beast raised its paw; the weight behind the hit it was preparing would be nothing less than fatal. Swinging his arm around, his finger squeezed the trigger. The sound echoed throughout the clearing, the bullet flying in what seemed slow motion before it sank into the Sasquaches eye. The thing opened its maw; the sound of pain that it wanted to emit was gurgled. And then the mighty beast fell into a heap, the snow around it pelting up off the ground in a spectacular display.

Dean let out a sigh of relief before his body decided it had enough and darkness claimed him into unconsciousness.

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Dr. Daniel Murdoch sat at his desk that overlooked the grounds that was once Sunnydale Hospital. A once thriving hospital, Sunnydale was shut down due to too much bad publicity over some unscrupulous acts; most performed by Dr. Murdoch himself.

Not the sort of man that anyone would take notice of on first glance, he had thinning brown hair that was graying in some spots. The glasses that made reading far easier had slid down his nose, making it look as if he were looking down on whomever he happened to be staring at. The fact of the matter was … he was.

Oh but on second glance, matters changed entirely. Dan had nondescript brown eyes, at least if you didn't look at them clearly. In an out and out stare, he caused more people to shudder than he could count. Most didn't know exactly why afterward, though they always said, 'there was just something about that man.'

That something was Daniel Murdoch, a man who had his license to practice medicine revoked in the state of Tennessee, was brilliantly insane. The type of man that, though madness consumed him, was the same man that could repair a heart that no other surgeon would have tried because of the health risks involved. It was a shame that this once doctor of medicine used his intellect and insight to maim and kill his patients.

The distinct sound of a car pulling into the drive caused the man to glance out the window; a smile curling his lips into something grotesque and sinister. The grin was soon followed by a chuckle as he settled down the papers he had been perusing.

Rising, he stepped from his office, two of his men instantly following his path. Never was the doctor without his guards. The risks were too high, even for a man as cunning as he.

Pausing midway down the hall, he waited for the door to open, and when it did, the smile he'd been wearing nearly cutting his face in half as he gave a small clap of his hands.

"Finally! Did you have any problems?"

One of the men shook his head, his own smile not quite as vibrant as the _good _doctors.

"Piece of cake, doc. He never knew what hit him."

Finally Daniel looked to the man they were dragging from under his arms. His head was flopped forward causing shaggy brown hair to hang in his eyes, but Dr. Murdoch lifted the young man's head up and grinned as he looked over his placid features.

"I see the tranquilizer worked."

"He fell with hardly a sound."

"He should have … I used enough in that dart to bring a bull elephant to its knees."

Looking back to the young man, Daniel patted his face despite the fact that he was currently out cold.

"Oh Sam Winchester, I've been waiting a long time for this. What fun we are going to have!

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Dean roused with a low groan. As his mind tried to come out of the darkness it was surrounded in, his body protested in pain. The first thing he became aware of was that every muscle in his body ached. He felt like he'd hit a tree! The second thing that entered his thoughts was just how cold he was … cold and wet.

Opening his eyes slowly, he realized he was lying on his side in the snow. His mumble came low, as if anything louder might shatter his brain into a thousand gooey pieces.

"Thanks for covering my back, Sam."

The silence was deafening. Nothing came … no apology, no snide remark, nothing.

Slowly lifting his head, Dean glanced around to the meadow he was in. The only thing besides himself in the clearing was the dead Sasquach.

"Sam?"

Alarm bells rang out in his head and Dean slowly, with much protesting from his aching muscles, pushed up to sit in the snow.

"Sammy?"

Not even a bird chirped. It was as if the meadow was lifeless, another world entirely where Dean and the dead creature were the only things there.

"Sam, if this is a game, I swear to God, I am killing you!"

Panic was now in his voice as so many things entered his mind. What if there was another Sasquash? Out and out fear raced up the elder Winchester's mind as he pushed to his feet, pure adrenaline based on fright coursed through him. It drove him onward when all he wanted to do was curl up in a bed and fall into oblivion for a day or three.

While the brother in him wanted to scream, to fall apart when no sign of Sam could be seen, the hunter in him took the reins, the fear settling into the pit of his stomach, awaiting its chance to burst forth. He could hear his father's words in his head as he backtracked the way he had come, toward the place where the beast was first shot.

"_Control your fear, Dean. Use it to your advantage. Don't let it win."_

He wondered if his father would still be saying that if he knew Dean had let something happen to Sam.

"_Watch out for Sammy."_

It swam in his head as his pace quickened until he reached where he once stood, where the Sasquach stood, and then, not far behind were Sam's footprints … and something else.

Weapon drawn, he edged closer to inspect the large indentation in the snow right in front of the footprints Sam left. He stared at the spot, freezing in place as he realized just what had made that spot … Sam.

Glancing around, he searched for another set of large footprints belonging to the beast they hunted … what he found were two sets of tracks; very human tracks. Human tracks that led away, and by the looks of the marks between them, they were dragging something.

"SAM!"

Dean took off after the tracks, his fear coupled with his anger. Whoever dared touch his brother was getting a bullet between the eyes. Sam was the logical one, the one who rescued people despite how bad they were. Dean, on the other hand, lost any sense of logic when it came to protecting his family. He was like a grizzly defending its den, and whoever crossed that path soon learned the deadliness that was Dean Winchester.

His feet tore up the ground, making crunching sounds in the partly frozen snow as he followed a trail that was easily spotted. No one tried covering it up, even a little. It was almost as if he was led there.

And suddenly they stopped, just vanished. But one other thing caught Dean's eye. One thing that made his heart sink into the pit of his stomach and had bile threatening to rise.

One tire print was etched in the snow before it vanished on the dirt road that led from the forest. Some sick bastard had his brother.

"Son of a bitch!!!"

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I know there isn't any Sam POV yet … but don't worry, that is coming next chapter, I promise!! If you notice, there was a HUGE reason Sam's POV was absent.

Grins Now, I LOVE reviews … so let me know if you like it.

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	2. Chapter 2

Now if I honestly owned Sam and Dean, I'd be Comfortably Numb!!

The response I got for the first chapter was overwhelming! Thanks so much for all who have reviewed (especially those that have come back for more from my first fic!) and also to those that are reading and enjoying the story as well.

A Special Thanks to my friend Charlene for offering me so much encouragement!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

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Sam's first act of consciousness was a small groan that was hardly heard. He was groggy from the effects of the drug that was given him, so coming back from the blank void he'd been in was easier said than done. There was a fuzziness in his mouth, making his first action to smack his lips once. And there was a pounding in his head that led him to believe he'd not been so successful with their last hunt.

"Dean…"

The lack of answer had him lifting his head, but just that small act had his vision blurring and his head throbbing with such intensity that he lowered it again to the floor.

"Oh God … Dean?"

Nothing greeted him but silence, making Sam again lift his head despite the pounding just behind his eyes. He had to blink to bring his vision into focus, and then his gaze began to slowly creep around the room.

_Hospital? _But then he looked down and shook his head. The only thing below him was blankets … no bed. Definitely not a hospital.

"Dean?"

His voice rose louder, a tinge of panic in his normally calm voice. Pressing his hands to the floor, he pushed up until he was on his hands and knees. The world threatened to fall off kilter again, and Sam closed his eyes until the white spots quit doing the tango.

Once he was able to see without feeling like he was going to keel over, he moved just like that until he was against the wall. Bracing a hand there, he began the slow and unsteady climb to his feet.

"Oh God. If this is your idea of a joke, Dean, I am so killing you."

His voice quivered as he closed his eyes, his world once again threatening to fall off its axis, but Sam was determined, he was, after all, a Winchester.

Once again regaining his equilibrium, Sam kept his hand on the wall for support as he made a slow path around the room. There were two doors within. Poking his head in the first he noted the bathroom.

"Great, if I need to throw up, I know just where to go."

Dean would have been proud at Sam's dripping sarcasm, though Sam didn't seem to notice his very Dean-like trait. He just wanted to find his brother so he could tell him that everything was going to be all right.

Making his way around the room, passed the one window that he only gave a small glance out, though it told him nothing of his whereabouts, he finally reached the door. Giving a small sigh of relief, his hand gripped the door and twisted, though it did nothing. It just sat there, useless.

Sam's brows furrowed, the confused look that tainted his features hard to mistake for anything else, and again he tried the knob. Slowly regaining control of his limbs, not to mention clearing his head of the fuzz it had been surrounded in, he slammed the palm of his hand against the barrier.

"DEAN!!"

Growing frustrated as panic crept in, his shoulder slammed against the door several times before he gave up and stalked across the room to the window. There was more than one way to escape a room, and the Winchesters knew just about all of them.

Sam's elation at his impending escape was thwarted when he gave the window a jerk upward … and it didn't budge. Several times he jerked on the frame, but each time it taunted him by not budging.

Slapping his hand on the wall, he glanced around the room for something, anything to break the glass with. It was empty except for ...

Sprinting back to where he'd woken, he grabbed a blanket and ran back to the window. Wrapping his hand, he slammed his fist into the glass, though all he managed to do was hurt his hand. In the process, it raised Sam's ire as well … his escape was not going to be thwarted.

There was only a very few ways to cage a Winchester … and this wasn't one of them.

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Dan Murdoch sat in his office, glancing over the papers that littered his desk. Accounts of hauntings, of subsequent grave desecration. That one excited the doctor more than anything. The fact that Dean Winchester had supposedly died did nothing to thwart his plans. And what sweet plans they were.

When he first heard of the sightings, the deaths, and the eyewitness accounts (because he too scoured the internet), Dan Murdoch had moved quickly back to where it all started. It was only fitting.

He glanced up as his most trusted employee came into the room. Allen was sharp, quick, and deadly. Not to mention loyal. If Dan had told him to kill his mother, he was certain that Allen would have done it.

"You wanted to know when he woke up."

"Ahhh … so the prodigal son awakens."

"He was yelling for his brother."

Dan chuckled, his hands clasping together as he looked downright giddy at that prospect. Rising up, he grinned to the only man that he truly trusted with the deviousness of his mad mind.

"Come on Allen, this is going to be … fun."

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Dean had driven down the road that led to the place where he and Sam had hunted, his eyes scanning the area for any signs that his brother might have passed by. Hell, at this point, anything at all would have sufficed.

His brows furrowed, his mind on his baby brother, Dean had done something he'd never done before … he failed to clean up after a hunt. The Sasquach lay back where they'd killed it. Maybe the locals would stuff it or something. If he hadn't been so distraught he might have cracked his sardonic grin.

He drove the empty road, his gaze continually drifting to the passenger seat … the _empty _passenger seat. Frowning, Dean tapped the steering wheel before reaching for his cell. Hell, it was worth a shot, right?

Pushing the button for Sam, it didn't even ring, instead switched over to voicemail immediately. Just the sound of Sam's voice, recorded or not, had Dean's foot pressing further onto the pedal.

Ending the call, he pressed another button and brought the phone to his ear, his eyes dark and clouded as it rang.

"Hey Bobby, it's me, Dean."

"No … no not really…

"It's um … it's Sam … "

"No he's not hurt, well, maybe, I um … I don't know where he is, Bobby."

Dean continued talking to their family friend, his voice nearly cracking as he explained everything. Bobby listened intently, writing things down as Dean spilled his gut in a way that didn't usually happen … at least not in this lifetime.

"I'm gonna get him back Bobby … if it's the last thing I do."

Bobby knew that tone; it was the same tone that John Winchester had used whenever he spoke of hunting the demon that killed Mary. It brought about so many emotions … but most of all it made him miss his friend.

"Yeah, call Joshua; call anyone you can think of."

"Yeah, okay Bobby … and thanks."

Dean hung up the phone and headed back to the motel, the one with a second bed to taunt him of the fact that he'd lost Sam.

"I swear Sammy, I'm gonna find you!"

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Just as Sam hit the glass again, his eyes on the grounds below for any signs of Dean … hell, any signs of life would have done at that moment; he heard the lock in the door, and then the handle turn. Spinning around, he kept his body between the three men at the door and the window.

On first glance, Sam quickly assessed the three that entered; his gaze sweeping over each before he centered his attention to the man in the middle, the one Sam concluded was the brains. The other two no doubtedly the brawn of whatever this was.

"Where's Dean?"

The man in the middle lifted his chin a notch, his glasses perched so that he appeared to be looking down at Sam, the notion nearly made the youngest Winchester scoff … he was too short to actually look _down _on him. There was a smile on his face that Sam recognized. It was the same smile that each of the Bender's had worn. It was a look of someone who did things far worse than any of the creatures he and Dean hunted.

"I wouldn't worry so much about him, Sam. I'd be more concerned about you."

"How do you know my name?"

"Oh I know a lot about your family … and about you. I've done my homework so to speak."

Dean might have been the one to go in guns blazing, but it was at that moment that Sam realized one thing … there would be no talking to this man. It appeared that his puppy dog eyes just ran out of fuel and there was no filling station for miles.

Sam took his gaze off the middle man, his eyes straying first right, then left. Each one of the henchmen was sized up, weighed, and measured, and in that one moment, Sam moved left. It wasn't a fast move, not even a threatening move, but it had the desired effect. They watched him, warily.

Another move was made, making it appear he was going for the door. In truth, he was, but Sam wasn't stupid enough to think he was going to get there without a fight, so he planned on taking care of that business first.

The man Sam had calculated as the weakest link moved as well, coming toward him with a nod from the brains. Another move was made by the Winchester, and the guard closed in. With a deftness that John Winchester would have been proud of, Sam dropped and swung his leg around to sweep the man's feet out from under him. As he fell, a hard fist hit his throat, making the man gasp for air. It was a dirty move, but one that Dean himself had shown him.

"_If they can't breathe, Sammy, then they can't fight."_

The second man's movements were heard before he was seen. Sam was a hunter, and the man, no matter how strong, did nothing to silence his steps. Spinning, Sam landed a hard fist on his jaw, sending his head spinning with impact. There was no recovery before Sam's fist made contact with the soft part of his stomach.

Groaning, the would-be guard doubled over and Sam made his move. Sprinting to the door, he burst out of it only to slam right into Allen. With a hard shove, he was sent stumbling back into the room, though he was hardly out of the fight.

Everyone has fight or flight instincts, though Sam usually tried words before brutality. Today, however, words failed and his survival instincts took over. Recovering quickly, he launched himself at Allen, his fists flying hard and fast at the man standing between his freedom.

With the other two down, at least for now, Sam concentrated on getting this one from his path. It was his fist mistake. Dan Murdoch held many in his employ, and had honestly expected Sam to be as adept as Dean. He was prepared for the fight that Dean's baby brother was putting up, so it was no wonder he simply watched, and smiled as two more guards rushed into the room, grabbing Sam's arms before he could swing on Allen again.

"So you want to play, eh boy?"

"Fuck you!"

They might have had the advantage, but Sam was not playing their game. He wasn't giving in to fear just because some idiot had the upper hand. He was John's son, Dean's brother, and he wasn't going to fall victim to some madman's game.

"No, fuck you."

Allen smiled a bloody smile (thanks to Sam's fist) and drew back his own fist. The impact was sharp and direct, making Sam yell on impact as blood sprayed from his nose.

Shaking his head to clear it, he glared at Allen, his defiance nearly tangible. It was something that pissed the man off. Another fist flew, this one hitting Sam in the gut, doubling him over enough so that the men holding him tightened their hold to keep him upright.

"I think we should play, don't you doc?"

Murdoch glanced to the two men finally rising to their feet, and grinned.

"I think they want to join the game as well."

In that moment it became apparent why the doctor so enjoyed Allen's company … Allen was as sadistic as he was. Grabbing Sam by his shirt, Allen easily tossed him into the wall as Sam tried recovering from the hard blows he had taken.

Hitting hard, he groaned, and then shoved off the wall to make a break for the door. There wasn't time to soothe his wounds, he sought freedom, and he had to find Dean. In Sam's mind, if he could find Dean, then all would be right again. That together they could face anything, and often did.

He made it three steps before a blow hit the side of his head, staggering him and making him see stars. Sam stumbled, but tried desperately to remain on his feet … to fall would be devastating.

Turning, he was ready to take on his attacker, and only met another blow that took the air from his lungs and sent Sam to his knees as he gasped for the breath that a well calculated fist had stolen from him.

All five men jumped into the fray as the youngest Winchester fell. Fists began flying, pummeling Sam. After struggling a moment, fighting back with a few punches as he kicked out in a vain attempt to get away, Sam simply curled in on himself, his arms coming up to try and protect his head.

"Oh you stupid bastard, you just had to play."

The boot that drove into his stomach had Sam rolling over, the bile that had quickly formed in his stomach threatening to come up. He didn't hear the command to stop, barely realized they had. All he knew was that whatever had been in his abused stomach was hitting the floor as waves of nausea cramped his gut so hard it felt like he was still being kicked.

"Uh … God … "

His head slumped forward, blood dribbled from his nose, passed his mouth to drool to the floor in a small pool under his head. He barely noticed being lifted by his armpits … barely noticed being dragged across the floor. He didn't even notice when he hit the blankets. All he knew was that he was alone and hurting.

"Dean……….."

And then he knew blackness.

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	3. Chapter 3

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Now had my very own Sam and Dean, I'd find every excuse to … work from home!!

I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one! It means the world!

Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!!!!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

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_Drip_

The first sign of consciousness was a twitch of his finger. Just a small one, but it was enough for Sam to actually feel pain.

_Drip_

Groaning, he tried desperately to fall back into that black void of oblivion where the pain didn't exist.

_Drip Drip_

His hand moved to his face, and instantly he regretted the action. His throbbing head pounded all the more for touching his bruised jaw.

_Drip_

His first conscious thought was how dry his throat was. Licking his lips to try and moisten them, he opened his mouth to speak, but what came out was a far cry from his usual voice.

"De………….."

_Drip Drip Drip_

He blinked and jerked his head despite the war waging within his brain. The chuckle he heard nearly stilled his heart and made his blood run cold. The dripping he'd felt earlier turned into a splash of moisture on his face.

"Oh Dean's not here, Sam. I'm afraid all you have is me."

Sam jerked up far too fast for his throbbing head to agree with. The world swayed and swam long before he even made it into a sitting position, his ribs screamed in protest to the movement, and his stomach clenched and recoiled, the bile there threatening to make an appearance.

"Oh God…"

He flopped back down, though managed to roll onto his back. Not that it made any difference; every part of him ached from his head down to his feet. He could feel every muscle demanding attention, begging for a reprieve. And all that screaming only made his head scream its own demands for silence.

In the end, Sam rolled to his side and threw up.

"No Sam, not God, though close!"

Blood was caked to his face, starting under his nose and trailing down to his lips, his chin, and finally flaking off in spots on his throat and collar. A deep bruise marred his left cheek, and a gash to his right temple caught brown strands in the dried crimson against his flesh. But, overall, his face didn't look so bad … all things considered.

His body, however, was another matter entirely. His back, sides, and stomach were littered in bruises that had bruises themselves. And every movement caused a new sensation in pain to race up Sam Winchester's spine, causing a domino effect as each offence, each bruise made itself known in succession.

"Now that is truly disgusting."

The man Sam recognized as the man from (how long ago was it anyway?) before spoke, and Sam lifted his head to glare at him. The hate in the youngest Winchester's eyes spoke more than anything he might have said in that moment. And the man sitting on a chair staring at him tsk'd and tossed the washcloth he was holding at him. It certainly explained the water dripping.

"Here, clean yourself up; you look like you lost ten rounds with a pissed off Poltergeist."

Sam blinked and stared, his fingers toying with the wet cloth, though he made no move to use it. The man was a hunter? Is that what this was about? But, the other man shook his head and chuckled.

"I know what you're thinking, I'm not a hunter. My name is Daniel Murdoch. _Doctor _Daniel Murdoch."

"You're … a doctor?"

Daniel nodded and Sam smirked and mumbled.

"Talk about taking the Hippocratic Oath seriously…"

Laughter rang out from the doctor that Sam was beginning to believe was insane.

"Oh dear boy, you have no idea!"

Steeling himself, Sam pressed his hands against the floor and pushed, the cry that came from him was immediate. Daniel smiled, his head canting to the side as he watched the young Winchester's resolve.

Waiting until the world quit spinning; Sam gritted his teeth and rose up to his knees. The action caused the entire room to shift, at least in Sam's perspective, and he had to close his eyes to stave off two things … throwing up again … and falling in his own vomit.

"You see Allen; I told you they were all stubborn bastards. It's just a shame that John didn't live long enough to see this."

That caused Sam to jerk his head, which caused a chain reaction. White spots danced before his eyes, making him close them to try and stop what was about to happen. It wasn't fast enough and Sam fell forward, only stopping the blow to his face with a quick reaction of his hands.

Groaning, he swallowed down the nasty taste that was again threatening, and looked up. It was the first time he noticed the other man … the one who had stopped his escape from the room.

"What … does my dad have to do with this?"

Sam felt sick, and it wasn't from the beating he had taken. Something was causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up more than any ghost or supernatural creature had ever done.

"Nothing … now. You see John Winchester went and died on me before my plan came into light. Now Dean on the other hand … "

Dan Murdoch actually grinned as Sam struggled unsteadily to his feet, the sway back and forth making him wonder just how he was able to keep himself vertical.

"You stay away from Dean! If you come near him, I swear to God, I'll kill you!!"

"Oh Sam, you shouldn't worry so much!"

With a twisted grin, Dr. Murdoch rose from his seat, Allen never straying far from his side as he stepped to Sam and patted his cheek.

"You see, there is something far worse for Dean Winchester than his own death…."

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"_Damn it Sam, what in the hell were you thinking?"_

"_I was thinking that I was going to get us some money!"_

_Dean snorted as he pressed the washcloth a little too hard against the gash on his brother's head, causing a wince from Sam._

"_Oh sure Sam, like going into a Hell's Angels Bar was the smartest thing you've ever done!"_

_Sam tried pulling back, his anger flaring at Dean's lack of confidence in him, though, truth be told, it hadn't exactly been smart, but he'd been desperate at the time._

"_It would have worked Dean!"_

"_Yeah, if you'd quit three games before you did!"_

"_They …"_

"_They what?"_

"_They wouldn't let me!!"_

_Dean ground his teeth together to keep from saying anything, and began to slowly count backward from ten._

_He jerked at Sam's shirt, tugging it up to see what damage had been done to his brother's ribs, and all but growled at the purple and black bruises forming._

"_God you idiot!"_

_It was said louder than he'd first intended, but Sam definitely heard it. He jerked back and stared up at Dean, anger radiating from him, though it was matched by Dean's anger … tenfold._

"_Oh like you never go in and hustle a game!"_

"_Not against ten bikers … without backup! It's a good thing I came along Sam, or else you wouldn't be here right now!"_

"_I was doing just fine, Dean!"_

"_Yeah, well, maybe next time I won't be there to save your ass!"_

"_What's that supposed to mean?"_

"_That maybe I'm tired of it Sam! That maybe I'm tired of always having to come in and save you!"_

_The words were out of his mouth before he had time to stop them. And once they were out, he held strong to them like the stubborn bastard he was. The effect was instantaneous … Sam looked at him a moment, his anger dissipating to hurt. Raw hurt. Rising from the bed without a word, his brother moved to the bathroom, mumbling something about a shower before shutting and locking the door. Dean stood there, staring, knowing damn well he didn't mean it … but what he didn't know was how to fix it._

Dean startled as his cell rang, pulling him from a memory that he wished he had forgotten. Glancing at the caller ID, Dean felt relief wash over him, not the kind that he would have felt on finding his brother, but the kind in knowing that he wasn't in this alone.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, Joshua, what'd you find out?"

Dean, being desperate, had gone to Bobby, who had pulled together the close-knit conglomery of hunters that had been John Winchester's friends.

"No, nothing. Just the tracks leading away and the one tire track."

Joshua had been a damn good friend to the Winchesters, and was one of the best trackers Dean had ever heard of. He was more thankful than he could ever express that both Bobby and Joshua were dropping everything to help him find Sam.

"Yeah. No, I already called Missouri hoping her whole psychic thing could locate Sam."

Dean let out a breath and actually laughed, though the sound was bitter and hoarse. He was at his rope's end, the frayed pieces were beginning to slip from his hand, and eventually all that would be left would be some wild free fall away from his brother.

"Yeah, ok, I'll see you soon."

"Oh, and Joshua … ? Thanks."

Before the older hunter could answer, Dean hung up the phone and went back to the map. There was a red mark where they had killed the Sasquach, and then a trail in the same color that led back to the road. And while Dean was looking for his brother in the vicinity, for his gut told him that Sam was still here, even if his heart was screaming at him to do more.

As the phone rang again, he snatched it up on pure reflex, his gaze looking at the caller ID and in that instant, his heart stopped.

"Sam?"

There was a crackle on the line, but it sounded made … as if it weren't a bad connection, but something on the other end making noise.

"Sammy? Where are you?"

"_That's the million dollar question, isn't it?"_

The voice was cold … and something about it niggled at the back of Dean's brain. Later he might dwell on it, but for now, he felt all the blood drain from his face at the very idea that he was talking to whatever sick bastard had his brother.

"I swear to God, if you so much as harm one hair on his head…"

"_It's a little too late for that Dean Winchester."_

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	4. Chapter 4

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I once dreamed I had my very own Sam and Dean … I refused to wake up for three days!!

I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one! It means the world!

Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!!!!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

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"_Unca Bobby?"_

_Bobby sighed and glanced to the precocious seven year old he had been talked into watching. Bobby had known the boys since Sammy was about one, but that didn't mean he'd ever really been up close and personal with them … until now._

"_Yeah Sam?"_

_Sam liked that Bobby talked to him like a grown-up, and that he called him 'Sam'. So he grinned a toothy grin at the man that would later shoot buck shot at his father._

"_I dun think yer mean."_

"_Huh?"_

_Sam gave another toothy grin and just looked at Bobby with those puppy dog eyes._

"_Well, you act-ed all mean an stuff to daddy, but I dun think yer mean at all."_

_Bobby gave him a look that said he was as crazy as his old man when Sam leaned over to whisper._

"_It's a cause you teach-ed me how to fights demons!"  
_

"_I did? How'd I do that?"_

"_Like this … GRRRR!"_

_And Sam gave his best 'Mean Bobby' impersonation, making the man who seemed as grumpy as a she-bear laugh._

_And Bobby fell victim to the charm that was Sam Winchester._

Bobby's old beat up truck rumbled to life only 45 minutes after first speaking to Dean. A ragged old leather bag that had seen better days 20 years ago was tossed onto the seat just before the elder hunter climbed into the seat.

Throwing the truck into reverse, gravel spun under his tires as the truck lurched backward for a moment, then another quick jerk of Bobby's hand and the truck spun out onto the road like a demon was on its tail.

It was far worse than that.

Bobby had known John Winchester for 22 years. He'd met him not long after Mary's death. He was the one who taught him most of what he knew about demons. And, in the midst of all the training and demon talk, Bobby got to know Dean and Sam Winchester.

Dean had become a comrade, someone who watched your back and you watched his. Bobby always knew there was something about Dean that was hidden beneath the layers of cocky attitude and downright sarcastic snarkiness that Dean often showed the world. There were places that boy kept so hidden he didn't even think Dean knew about them anymore.

Oh but Sam did, of that Bobby was quite certain.

Sam Winchester was another matter entirely. He'd been a shy, but precocious child, always questioning, always seeking answers to his never-ending "Why?" Sometimes it drove all sane people within a hundred miles to cackle like stark raving lunatics. But more often than not, Sam brought about a smile.

And it was for Sam that Bobby was currently driving across the country going at speeds faster than his truck should have been able to go.

Reaching for the phone, he dialed quickly then brought it to his ear.

"Hey Gary, it's Bobby."

"Yeah, I uh … I need you to do me a favor?"

"Well, because besides Sam Winchester, you're the best researcher I know!"

"Well, I can't get Sam Winchester you idiot, it's him I'm trying to find!"

Bobby kept one eye on the road and the other attuned to the conversation as he filled in another hunter in the small circle of friends that John Winchester has accumulated over the years. All were loyal, and all were being contacted in their search for Sam.

No stone was going to be left unturned. They _were _going to find him. And kill whoever the hell dared hurt him.

"Oh, and Gary … keep a kind of low profile on this. I don't want any unnecessary attention if you know what I mean."

As he hung up, his foot pressed down harder on the gas. Tennessee seemed too far … too damn far.

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Dean was intently leaning over Sam's laptop, the thought that Sam was lacking in this research made him want to throw the computer across the room, but while it would have relieved some stress, it would also have meant that Dean would have had to venture into the library. The thought alone made him shudder.

Without his geekboy sidekick, Dean was at a loss in some respect. While he was no stranger to research, it was Sam that questioned everything from every angle, not to mention that he was a wealth of weird information.

His first order of business had been to Google the area for anything out of the ordinary. And while nothing seemed odd, even in their sense of the word, he did take notes of just about anything and everything. From the closed hospital on the outskirts of town to the mansion belonging to the Hornwell family. Apparently the hospital was closed due to a scandal, and the Hornwells were an influential family at one time, but apparently went into bankruptcy due to Martin Hornwell's bad investments. The house stood empty since the family vacated, for some reason no buyers would touch it. And the hospital, well, apparently it was purchased recently, though the article didn't list the name of the buyer, just some business that Dean didn't recognize offhand. Both he was going to delve a little deeper into.

His second order of business had been to map quest the area, searching for any back roads or other places in which a person could easily conceal themselves if they wanted.

It had been a grueling three days. Three days in which Dean hadn't slept except to cat nap at the computer, and that was usually when exhaustion took over. It was also three days that Dean barely ate. When he did he wondered if Sam was hungry, if he was hurt. But most of all, he wondered just who had taken his brother … and why.

"Damn it Sammy, where are you?"

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When Sam awoke next, it was with a little less pain than the last time consciousness had brought him around to the land of the living. His ribs still ached, his chest still hurt to breathe … but at least he was still breathing.

Lifting his head from the bed of nothing more than a few blankets, he came to the conclusion he had been visited while sleeping. Beside where he slept was a tray containing a plate of food and a cup of water. Both items, to his dismay, were made of plastic, so there would be no using them as weapons.

Leaning over, he sniffed the food to discern if it was poisoned, though Sam doubted it was. If they wanted to kill him, they would have done so already. Not that beating the shit out of him was what he considered a vacation, but at least he was alive. And that meant Dean was looking for him.

The thought of his brother had mixed feelings. He was all he could think about … but Sam also wondered if he was indeed all right in all of this. Had the mad man hurt him? Sam pushed the thought away because he couldn't dwell on it, not now, not ever. While John Winchester had been Dean's hero, Dean was Sam's, and in Sam's mind, Dean was infallible.

Rising slowly, Sam once again took in the room. It was about the size of a hospital room sans the beds and equipment, even including a bathroom. The lights above cast that fluorescent hue that Sam so hated and had seen too much of, and despite the lack of beeping from machinery that defined a person's life force, it had that smell. The smell of something so sterile it was enough to make you want to streak through it in the mud, just to taint the cleanness.

With slow but even steps, Sam made his way to the bathroom. Not surprised that the mirror was taken down, he leaned over the sink and turned it on. The cold water he splashed on his face eased a bit of the pain though did nothing to ebb the uselessness he was beginning to feel.

With his hands, he slowly washed away the dried blood from his face, and then raked his fingers through his hair as a heavy breath was expelled from his lungs. Turning his head, he eyed the toilet … and slowly a grin formed along with a plan.

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Patience was the key to Sam's plan, and finally it paid off as the key turned in the lock once more. He waited, his breath held, his heart racing. The door swung open, and the doctor entered, his eyes scanning the room, though he hung back. It was one of the guards that took steps into the seemingly empty room. Without so much as a sound, Sam swung the back of the toilet with a force that would have made his father and Dean both proud. There was a sickening thud as ribs broke on impact, the ceramic weapon cracking to split into two pieces.

As another guard rushed into the room, Sam used the weapon like a sword, and struck with a thrust of his only weapon … his only hope. Blood spilled from the fatal wound he inflicted, but the youngest Winchester didn't pause, didn't look back, he just shoved his way out of the door … freedom his motivation.

Not looking which way to go, he bolted; the taste of freedom, the thought of finding Dean his driving force, the edge that took the pain away, at least momentarily.

The deafening sound that filled the air, echoing down the empty hallway and ricocheting as if in stereo was ignored for two steps. Two steps in which Sam could nearly taste the wind on his face, feel the sunshine that awaited him.

And then he cried out before collapsing onto the cold, hard floor.

The pain was excruciating as blood blossomed on the leg of his jeans, his hand pressed to his thigh to try and staunch the blood that was staining blue denim to an ugly shade of crimson.

"Uh … God …"

He swallowed, the information not fully processing in his fogged brain. Not even as the doctor came to stand above him, his look one of amusement.

"You sick bastard…"

It was choked out despite the pain he was in. That Winchester stubbornness making him refuse to give in. He would die before this man stole the one thing Sam was holding desperately onto … his pride.

The glare he sent the doctor only made him laugh as he motioned to Allen, the man that seemed to be up the doctor's ass at all times. Sam barely had a chance to struggle before Allen hoisted him from the floor and all but dragged him back into the room he'd run from, the doctor following behind with a malicious grin.

It was only minutes later that Sam's screams echoed throughout the once hospital as the doctor took great pleasure in removing the bullet without so much as an aspirin to ebb the pain.

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Ok, so I have family coming in for Easter, so I probably won't have another update until Monday or Tuesday. I will try and sneak on the computer to write, but you know how in-laws are … they are more bothersome than the Benders!! Grins Anyway, hope you are enjoying the story so far. If so, PLEASE review, I love hearing from you all!

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	5. Chapter 5

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Sam and Dean have plans to kidnap me. I know this because the voices told me so!!

I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one! It means the world!

Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!!!!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

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"What do you mean there is nothing there? I'm telling you Frank, keep looking."

Ellen hadn't always been on the best side of the Winchester boys, she had, in fact, nearly taken out her anger at their father on the brothers. But all of that was forgotten during the current crisis that had struck the small band of hunters; hunters that had taken to venturing outside their venue of supernatural beings when one of their own was hurt.

"I have looked Ellen, and I keep coming up with a big fat zero! There isn't a person alive, at least that I can tell, that wants to harm Sam Winchester."

Ellen sighed. Ever since she'd gotten Dean's call, she'd been frantic. Sam was like the son she never had, though she sort of suspected, based on the reaction of their close-knit circle of friends, that he had that effect on most.

Grabbing out a beer, she slid it to Frank, a seasoned hunter that had been coming to the Roadhouse for at least a decade. He also happened to be one of the few men that John Winchester had trusted.

It was no secret that John, while well respected, trusted few. Some of whom were dead for their friendship of the man. But, that didn't matter, once that bond was formed amongst hunters, their dedication was to the death.

"Maybe we're looking at this from the wrong angle, Ellen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Maybe whoever it is that took Sam isn't really after Sam…."

"Who else could he be after? I mean, John's dead and Dean was knocked o……………"

Her voice trailed off as she tried to piece together all that Dean had told her.

"Frank … Dean wasn't conscious. He said the Sasquach knocked him out. If they wanted Dean, they could very well have taken him."

"Yeah, if they wanted him dead….."

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"_Hey dad … "_

_Joshua sat in the kitchen in the latest Winchester abode, drinking a cold one with John while going over the plans of their latest hunt. It seems a demon had decided to possess a young girl and wreak havoc on a small town in Midwest Iowa._

_John fell silent as his youngest, thirteen year old Sam, made his presence known. Joshua, while trying to remain unobtrusive, cast a glance at the only true witness to what had happened to Mary Winchester all those years ago._

"_Yeah Sammy?"_

_John had looked at his son with a weary gaze, though at the time Joshua didn't know why._

"_I um … this exorcism…"_

"_Yeah, what about it?"_

"_Well, isn't it dangerous?"_

_John cast an incredulous gaze to his son while Joshua had remained quiet, though not without his own opinion._

"_Yes, Sam, to the demon, it's dangerous."_

"_No, dad, to the girl it's dangerous."_

"_We're not discussing this Sam, not now."_

"_Then when, dad? When she dies because you were too stubborn to look for another way?"_

_John had risen from his seat, his face reddening, the vein at his temple throbbing … never a good thing where John Winchester was concerned._

"_That's enough, Sam!!! I will not have you messing up this hunt like you did the last one. Now go to your room, that's an order!"_

_Joshua watched as Sam stared at his father a minute, contemplating standing his ground or backing down. But, Sam had just been a kid, so he retreated … but not without that teenage rebellion that seemed to be predominant in the youngest of John's brood._

"_Yeah, always send me to my room when I'm right."_

"_That's it, Sam! You're grounded!!!"_

"_OH! Like I EVER get to do anything anyway!"_

_The slamming door ended the fight between father and son, though John stood there, fuming for a moment before trying to pull it all together by sitting down. Joshua sat there, saying nothing, but John raised a brow._

"_What?"_

"_Nothing."_

"_Oh don't hand me that, Joshua. What is it?"_

"_Not my place, Johnny boy…"_

"_You think he's right? You're kidding, right?"_

"_I think … you have an incredibly … intuitive son."_

Nearly silent footfalls moved across the snow covered ground, following a trail that was almost too obscure to follow … at least to the untrained eye. Joshua, however, was hardly untrained, nor was he unseasoned. He was trained with the best, had worked with the best … and would have died for the best.

There was no question of his loyalty … to John, his boys, or the other group of hunters that were forming an alliance to find one amongst them. The same one that the demon might end up using as their demise.

Joshua didn't believe any of it. Sam Winchester was not what anyone would use to describe evil.

Coming around the bend, he met the bitter bite of a winter wind as he stepped from the cover of trees to enter the clearing that Dean had spoken of. Lifting a hand to shield his gaze from the suddenly startling sunlight, Joshua glanced across the expanse of snow to catch sight of the frozen beast still lying in the snow-covered earth.

"You'd think someone would have noticed that…."

His sarcasm was lost for he spoke to no one but himself. Pity, it was a wit that most hunters tended to use. Even Sam, on occasion, was good for a good old fashioned sarcastically biting joke.

With Sam on the forefront of his thoughts, the hunter moved through the clearing, his feet crunching through the mostly frozen blanket of white. Dark eyes scanned anything and everything, and while it appeared Dean did a good job at assessing the situation, Joshua didn't have a handful of emotions weighing him down at the moment.

Yes, in the back of his mind he wanted to find Sam, but he slipped into hunter mode so easily that it often became hard to tell that there really was a man buried inside of him.

He moved away from the beast of burden, instead heading toward the opposite side of the glen, toward the place where Dean said he'd see and heard Sam. Joshua looked around with a trained eye, and while the snow had covered most of the tracks, because it was partially frozen, you could tell where there had been a trail.

And thus the hunter of Supernatural beings became the hunter of something that might be far worse than any demon. At least they were upfront about their plots, schemes and all out demonic plans.

People were just nuts.

Glancing at the small indentations that had obviously been steps, and to the trail that was most likely Sam being dragged, Joshua was more interested in the trees. Moving to the ones closest, he eyed their limbs, their location, and most of all, just what the most likely spot would have been to watch and lie in wait.

"Now if it was me, and I was hunting myself a Sam … I would have started right about …."

And he moved, his eyes searching, seeking, and finally finding what he was looking for. Hoisting himself up, he climbed to the lowest branch that still allowed a person to be concealed, and came up with a piece of fabric.

"From a pair of jeans if I were to guess…."

It wasn't much, but if Joshua could ascertain where it all started … then maybe he could figure out where it was all supposed to end.

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It was the click of the door that lifted the fog and brought Sam Winchester back to the land of consciousness. It wasn't necessarily a place that he wanted to be. With awakening there was pain. More than he wanted to process at the moment.

While his ribs, back, and chest ached with a severity, nothing compared to the throbbing pain in his leg that sent sharp stabs of electric volts from the wound in his thigh to make each nerve ending stand up and scream at attention of the agony Sam was in.

As that lock signaled the door opening, Sam let out a cry of pain as his leg moved in an unconscious effort to get away from the madman that had his hooks in him.

The chuckle reached him before Sam even opened his eyes, before awareness even had full claim on him. It made him want to throw up the nothing that was in his stomach.

Worse. It made Sam Winchester want to kill just to watch something die.

With great care, Sam rolled to his back, the grunts of pain and the beads of sweat on his brow not going unnoticed.

"See, I told you Allen, he's a fighter. Just like his brother."

Sam blinked, he still didn't understand any of this, except that it had to do with Dean, and that didn't bode well with the youngest Winchester.

"What do you want with my brother?"

Dr. Murdoch grinned, his goon stood with his arms folded over his chest, but he too had a malicious smile on his face.

"It's not what I want with him, Sam, it's what I want to show him…"

His gaze so intent on the man who was his captor, that he didn't notice the other two who had entered the room until they made a move for him. Jerking back, he cried out as his left leg moved in his attempt to get away, the pain causing him to clench his eyes shut as a tear slid down his cheek.

"_Work with your pain, your fear, don't let it overcome you."_

Suddenly a fist lashed out, connecting with something soft and fleshy, causing a grunt that had one side of him freed. Kicking out with his good right leg, Sam fought with all he had not to get held in a position that would enable him helpless.

It was a feeling he couldn't stand, though he'd been placed there often enough.

All his life, it had been "_Watch out for Sammy."_

Sam began to wonder when it was time for him to watch out for himself. Or even better, where he would watch out for Dean. Maybe he wasn't supposed to; after all, he'd done a piss poor job of helping his father when the demon possessed him.

Even so, Sam was a Winchester, and thus every fiber of his being was fighting for survival, and that included punching and kicking his way free if necessary.

"Damn it, hold him still!"

Suddenly another force was behind him, an arm around his throat, cutting off his air before Sam even realized what was happening. His punching quit to grasp at the burly arm, his yells turning into strangled cries.

"Good, now hold him there."

The hold on his throat loosened enough so Sam took in a strangled gasp of air, wild eyes frantically looking around to land on the doctor … and the object in his hand.

"Noooo … Nuuuu…."

His struggle began for a moment, but ended just as quickly as the hold on his throat constricted once again. His face turned red as he struggled for air, the lack of oxygen nearly drowning out the prick on his arm and the burn of the fluid being fed into his bloodstream.

His arms relaxed almost instantly, the hold releasing, though the hold at his neck only loosened … the very real threat remained even as Sam sucked in a lungful of much needed air.

The world around him swam and dappled, making it hard to concentrate on any one thing. The sounds around him danced in a musical melody, though Sam couldn't very well understand the music.

"Whu … I …"

Laughter. He could hear Laughter. He even smiled as if he understood the joke.

"Talk to your brother, Sam."

He felt something pressed against his face, though the presence at his back didn't move, it was there, as if instilling some sort of force, unsaid but there, on the mostly incoherent Winchester.

"De…."

There was a sound, another shrill sound that made Sam try and pull his head away, but then it came, something that brought a glimmer of hope.

"_I swear to God, put my brother on the phone or I will rip your heart out with my bare hands!"_

"De……….."

His brain felt like it was floating outside his body, the thing pressed against the side of his face felt detached and foreign.

"_Sammy?!!! Sammy where are you?"_

"De, I…." He tried to look up, to focus because he knew there was something he needed to tell his brother. And finally, it came to him, the one thing he needed to say.

"M…sorra, De…."

The force at his back shifted, the weight on his arm changing until blinding white-hot pain ripped through his shoulder causing a scream to rip from his throat.

"_SAMMY!!!"_

"OH GOD!!!!!!!!!!!"

The voice coming through the phone was no longer heard as Sam shut his eyes tightly tears escaping the corners of his eyes at the pain that burned through his shoulder like a blooming fire of pain.

"_SAMMY!!"_

"Say good-bye to your brother now Sam."

"UHHHH!!! GOD!!!!"

"_SAM……………"_

And the phone clicked closed.

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Hope the wait wasn't too long! I thankfully survived the outlaw invasion! Maybe, with any luck, I can develop immunity to them!

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	6. Chapter 6

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I was going to steal Sam and Dean, but my computer crashed, and all my plotting material was lost!!! Which is why I am late with this. THANKFULLY I had sent this to a friend, or I would have had to start over. Yup … way frustrated on this end of the fandom!!

I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one! It means the world!

Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!!!!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

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"SONOFABITCH!!!"

Still holding tightly to the phone, Dean turned to slam his other fist into the wall directly behind him. His pent up anger reaching the boiling point, Dean swung again, ignoring any pain that punch was inflicting on himself.

"You bastard, I swear I'm gonna kill you!!"

It was the second time that the sick bastard that had his brother had called him. The second time he'd gotten the upper hand. No, it was the third … the first had been in the capture of his brother in the first place.

But it was the first time that Dean had heard Sam's voice in three days.

At first it raised the eldest Winchester's ire beyond all sense of reason and control. His anger seethed from every pore. It boiled over to burst free in a rage that had Dean punching the wall, the door, throwing things in a tantrum that would have been dangerous if anyone else had been around.

But still, he held onto that phone as if it were a lifeline; as if it were the air he breathed and the blood that coursed through his veins.

Finally, after throwing so many fists his knuckles were leaving bloody smears, his adrenaline vacated for calmer waters, and Dean, with his face pressed against the wall, slid slowly to the floor, the phone cradled against his chest.

His shoulder's hitched, and what came out was a choked sob. The silence in the room was dissipated by the sounds coming from the eldest of the Winchester clan. The sounds of tears, however, soon changed to that of maniacal laughter. It echoed out even as he stilled there, pressed against the wall, his cell phone pressed tightly to his chest.

"Dean?"

He hadn't heard the door; not a good thing for a hunter. He was too wrapped up in his own emotional meltdown that he honestly didn't care if the yellow-eyed demon himself had slithered from the depths of hell to cross the barrier of their door and kill him with but a glance.

"Dean, what is it son?"

He looked to Joshua, his expression not changing. Even as tears slid down his cheeks, the sounds he emitted were very much comical.

"He … he called again!!!"

Joshua looked at John's son as if he'd lost his mind. Maybe this was too much for him. Maybe the thought of losing Sam had sent Dean over the edge he'd been precariously balancing on since John's demise.

"Dean, just sit there, I'll …."

"I heard him, Joshua. I heard Sam…"

"You … he … what'd he say?"

"He said he was sorry. Then he screamed."

Yes, Dean Winchester had definitely lost what little marbles he had left if he was laughing at his brother's torment.

"Hold on son, I'll get …"

"Don't you see Joshua? He's alive! If he can scream it means he's alive."

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Dr. Murdoch stood at the open door of the room that held Sam Winchester captive. Two guards flanked him, though they were a bit back from the doctor himself, who stood direct center of the entry way staring at a very unconscious Sam. Both guards, however, backed up a step when Allen approached. Dr. Murdoch might have been the boss, but Allen was definitely a man to be reckoned with.

"Doc…."

Allen came to stand beside the doctor, their shoulders nearly touching though Allen had a good six inches on the elder man. Nearly as tall as Sam Winchester himself, Allen made a formidable enemy to any that dared cross him. Though it wasn't just his size … it was his disposition. He held very little conscious. He did what it took to get a job done, no matter what it took. Dislocating their captive's shoulder while he spoke to his brother had been one of those tasks. He didn't care that it caused pain, in fact, he got off on it. Sam's screams had caused him to smile; something he didn't do very often these days.

"Look at him Allen…"

"You have him right where you want him, Sir."

Doctor Murdoch turned to look at the man who was almost like a son, and smiled.

"Yes, I do … and I must say I'm quite impressed."

A blonde brow arched on the Neanderthal that seemed to take pleasure in causing Sam's pain.

"Impressed?"

"Yes, Allen. He hasn't backed down, not once. And you have to admit, you've put quite a beating to him."

One side of his lip curled, giving his mouth a lopsided look. Yes, he had put quite the hurting on their captive. It made Allen feel powerful to know that he could make or break the man lying there with but mere blink … or so he thought.

"So when is your plan going to be fulfilled?"

"As soon as Dean gets here."

"And what if he doesn't come?"

"Oh he'll come. This one … this brother of his, he's important to him. Just as important as Clara was to me."

Allen glanced to the doctor, knowing the facts that instilled this whole operation. But the whys, to Allen, didn't matter. He just enjoyed the here and now … the times he got to show Sam Winchester just who his God was.

"When?"

"When I've decided he's been tormented enough and I lead him to me."

Allen nodded once then glanced back to Sam; who it appeared was beginning to stir. Clenching his fists, he tightened his jaw, making the doctor chuckle and pat his arm.

"Oh don't fret Allen; you'll get to kill him … eventually. But for now, we play by my rules. Now come on, let's have some fun."

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_Sam could hear his brother as soon as he entered the school. Even from behind closed doors in the principal's office, he could hear Dean's voice rising out in a tone that made Sam look down to his lap. _

_At that moment he would have rather faced a thousand John Winchester's than one pissed off brother. _

_"What do you mean, he's been suspended?" _

_"We asked for his father to come down here, now where is …" _

_"Business, he's away on business. Now we can either quabble over why he isn't here, or skip the foreplay and get down to business." _

_Sam could all but hear the principal's eyes widening at the crassness that was his brother. Sinking down further in his seat, he silently prayed that a huge crater from space would land on him in that moment. _

_Never was that his luck, he was a Winchester, after all. _

_"Sir if you'll just…" _

_"Let me see my brother. I'm telling you, my geeky brother couldn't have…" _

_"Mister Winchester, he beat up three members of the football team, gave a concussion to one of the band members, and threatened to 'salt and burn' the Football coach. Now if that isn't cause for…" _

_Dean couldn't help it, he cracked a smile at the last one. _

_"Sammy really said that?" _

_"I seriously doubt this is a laughing matter! Now, if you'd like to see Samuel…" _

_"It's Sam, he hates being called Samuel…" _

_Sam, by that time, had sank so far down in his seat that it was a wonder he didn't just pool off the edge onto the floor. When the door opened, he dared to peek up at a very pissed off older brother. _

_"Uh … hi Dean." _

_"Hi Dean? You beat up half the school and it's hi Dean?" _

_"Well, sir, technically it wasn't half …" _

_"Shut up lady, I wasn't talking to you!" _

_Sam peeked up, eyeing the exasperated principal and his angry brother and sighed before slowly climbing to his feet and grabbing his backpack. The principal's voice telling Dean that Sam couldn't return to school for a week was barely heard as he shuffled out and plopped down into the Impala, waiting for his impending doom. _

_They were halfway home before Dean had simmered down enough to speak, his anger, however, still evident by the way his words came out slow and calculated. _

_"So … wanna tell me what that was all about, Sam?" _

_"Not really." _

_"Okay, fine, then you can explain it to dad right after he gets home." _

_Sam peeked up from his perusal of his book bag to eye Dean in a sideways glance. _

_"I um … beat up four guys and threatened a teacher." _

_"I kind of figured that part out, Sam!!" _

_"I just um … got mad?" _

_Dean gave Sam the look. The same one his father gave him on many occasions, but to sixteen year old Sam Winchester, that look held so much more weight coming from his heroic older brother. _

_"They were … picking on me." _

_"Oh like that hasn't happened before!" _

_Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head. _

_"You're a geek Sam; of course they pick on you! Hell, I pick on you every chance I get. And they were what? The football team? Not as cool as your older brother mind you, but to the school…" _

_"They said dad was a drunk!! That mom didn't really die, that she left him. And that's why …" _

_He frowned and looked down to the hole in the knee of his jeans. It might have been fashionable, but it was highly unintentional. Sam's hole was caused by wear, nothing more. _

_"Why … what?" _

_…………. _

_"Sam?" _

_"They said dad was drunk and crazy and so I … hit them. Then the teacher threatened to call dad, said something about like father like son, so I threatened to salt and burn his ass…" _

_Dean quirked a smile and reached over to ruffle his kid brother's hair. _

_"Damn Sammy that's …" _

_"That's what?" _

_"That's … pretty awesome…" _

"Dean M'sorra….."

The words were slurred and barely above a whisper, but the reaction was instantaneous as the laughter it caused filled the small room. Sam Winchester gasped and bolted upright, only to groan and flop back to the blankets that were, for all intents and purposes, his bed.

"No, I'm afraid not, Sam. There's no Dean here."

Despite the pain that pounded in his head, that made his shoulder and thigh both scream in agony, Sam peeked his eyes open enough to shoot the doctor a glare.

"Not yet…"

"Not ever. Didn't I tell you? Dean decided you weren't worth finding and left … on a hunt."

Sam said nothing, just stared as if he was in a contest with this mad man, and the first one to look away lost the game. Only, it wasn't a game. It was a pissing contest for Sam's life, his sanity.

"See Allen, I told you he was defiant."

"I can break him of that."

"Oh really?"

Allen nodded. And while Sam couldn't see the action, he could very well guess it was there. He almost flinched at their discussion, but he refused to pull his venomous glare from the man with the glasses.

Doctor Murdoch met Sam's gaze unaffected, though he did look most amused. He liked the fight he saw in the youngest Winchester. So much so that he almost hated to lose it. Almost.

"Now that, Allen, I would enjoy seeing."

His gaze jerked away only as he felt the arm on his to pull roughly and cause a yell as his dislocated then relocated shoulder didn't like the strain of Allen's jerking hands.

"So, you want to play boy?"

Pain mixed in his eyes, making them appear brilliantly green … and defiant. His gaze had turned from the doctor to the goon, it unwavering despite the intense throb that bloomed through his injured shoulder.

"Oh, I see that you do."

And with a jerk of Allen's wrist, Sam stumbled, the two steps he managed to take ended in a deep cry as it felt like his thigh was on fire from the spot where the bullet had once imbedded in his flesh.

Stumbling, he caught his fall with his hands, managing to save his nose another blow by mere inches.

"Bastard…."

It was hissed between clenched teeth, even as sweat riddled his brow. Sam was a Winchester, and as such surrender was not an option.

"I do believe he likes it rough doc…"

Laughter. It echoed throughout the room he was growing to despise as a sharp explosion hit his back in way of Allen's boot as it crashed down between his shoulder blades, sending Sam to the floor.

"Remember, you asked for this…"

The putrid breath of his captor was drowned out as pain exploded in his wrist; Allen's other boot crashing down on his arm causing a snap that was definitely felt, though hardly heard. The sound was nothing compared to the scream that echoed from Sam Winchester.

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Thanks so much to Carikube for pointing me to H.T. Marie's profile on how to load my chapter!! And thanks to H.T. Marie for posting that!! Without you two I would still be sitting here … cursing … and muttering … and plotting to kidnap Sam and Dean!!! Well, okay, the last isn't so bad.

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	7. Chapter 7

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I have put Sam and Dean in my Safe Deposit Box. Ronald, suspecting this, broke in to the bank to try and snatch it before the Mandroid got it. _"Hi Ronald…." _

I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one, it means the world!

Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

Someone gave me advice about my overexpressive use of exclamation points, and yes, I know I use them too much! (SEE) And the last chapter, I had actually edited them out, but, had sent that copy to a friend beforehand (which is why I even had the chapter since my hard drive crashed) so when I posted, I did so from my sent copy and forgot to edit them back out. Forgive my excitedness, as I did honestly take the pointer to heart.

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"Ok, so this Sunnydale Hospital has been empty since when?"

Dean, Bobby, and Joshua all sat around the small table of the hotel that was now currently serving as the headquarters to the Rescue Sam mission. There were others involved as well. Currently, Ellen was gathering information through networking other hunters, Gary was researching anything and everything that this pissant town had to offer, and Ash had his computers going haywire as searches were done nationwide for anyone and everyone that had any beef with anyone named Winchester. Not to mention the other hunters that had their eyes and ears peeled for any signs of Sam or who might have taken him. All in all, the Winchester corner was pretty full.

"Since 2002 when one of the resident physicians was the center of a huge scandal. It seems that Sunnydale was the operation for our very own Dr. Kevorkian. Only, the patients weren't consensual when it came to what he was performing on them."

Dean looked at Joshua and arched a brow, so Joshua continued.

"It appears that several doctors were experimenting on patients for a means of the fountain of youth."

"You mean …"

"They were killing patients to try and find ways to make themselves live forever."

"Let's just be glad that I'm not on the bad side of Doctor Feel Good."

Bobby looked up from his reading as Joshua smirked over Sam's laptop. It seemed odd, the very big part of Sam being used to help find him. It was like a reminder that Sam wasn't there.

"So this hospital has been empty since?"

"It was sold in 2003, and was unoccupied until … well; it says it's never been occupied."

"Not that it matters anyway. Jesus, what in the hell are we doing anyway? None of this is helping us find Sam."

Dean rose and began pacing, something Bobby and Joshua were quite used to. For the past day, Dean would sit, join in the discussion, then get agitated and rise to begin his pacing, ranting, and all out worrying about his brother.

With good reason.

Both Bobby and Joshua were equally worried about the youngest Winchester. But, someone had to hold this rag-tag group together, and they both knew it wasn't going to be Dean. So, while all of them worried about the fate of Sam Winchester, Bobby and Joshua remained calm, at least outwardly, and allowed Dean to vent before continuing on their plight to rescue one of their own.

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"How's our special patient, Allen?"

The loyal member of Dr. Murdoch's staff entered the quiet office, a brow arched before he let out a breath slowly. He was annoyed, to say the least. He was a man of action, and the action they were taking didn't seem to be bringing results as fast as he would have liked.

"He's pacing. Well, as much as his leg will allow."

Daniel Murdoch nodded and rustled through his papers before laying them down and glancing up to the large, blonde man.

"You might as well be candid, Allen. It's what I like about you."

Allen stood stoic for a moment, though it all ended with a large breath of courage. Letting it out slowly, he allowed his feelings to come out in such a way as to let the good doctor think Allen's thoughts were his own. Daniel might be in charge, but Allen definitely had his hand in the cookie jar.

"This … kid. This Sam Winchester. He's making a mockery of you, Sir."

"I don't understand, Allen. I have him caged, I have had him beaten and taken him away from everything he feels is safe. How, exactly, is he mocking me."

A hand swiped over the cleanly shaven face of the blonde as he again sucked in a breath.

"He … defies you, Sir."

"Ahhh. You mean he doesn't bow down to me as you feel he should?"

Allen would have smiled if it wouldn't have blown the seriousness he was trying to convey. But, as it were, he didn't really need to do anything, his amusement was clear enough in his deadly gaze.

"Yes, Sir. That is exactly what I mean. He is defiant and should be made to step into line."

"Yes, well, he is very much like his father and brother. Though there is something different in Sam, I'm just not sure what."

"Regardless, he doesn't show you the respect you deserve."

Daniel Murdoch grinned such a sadistic smile that Satan himself would have shuddered were it directed at him.

"So shall we enforce this show of respect?"

Allen grinned, his own viciousness matching that of the doctor's.

"I thought you'd never ask."

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"Well, the Hornwell place is a bust."

Dean stormed into the motel room looking fit to be tied. Every lead they tried that failed was one more reminder that Sam wasn't with him. That Sam was hurt, possibly dead. No! He shoved that thought aside and looked from Bobby to Joshua, one sandy brow arching slowly.

"You found something?"

"Well … not exactly."

"And just what exactly does not exactly mean?"

"Ellen called."

"Oh cut the crap Bobby."

It was Bobby's turn to arch a brow, though he said nothing. He knew Dean was feeling the weight of the world, so he was going to let this one slide … for now.

"Ash found out who owned the hospital."

"And … ?"

"It's owned by a foreign corporation called Nemesis."

Dean looked between Bobby and Joshua, that look settling on his face as he silently mouthed 'huh'.

"Did Ash say who owned this company?"

"He's trying to find the controlling parties now, as well as where it's based out of."

"Ellen also checked out the history of the town, and, like us, she came up with a big fat nothing."

Dean's gaze shifted from Bobby to Joshua, his voice coming slow.

"So other than the fact that some whacko made a hospital shut its doors, nothing has happened in this town?"

"Well … not exactly … "

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Sam had been awake for the better part of an hour. One blissful hour where his captor didn't come in and cause some physical harm. One hour where he was left to his own devices. One hour where Sam's level head was trying desperately to work some way out of this mess he'd found himself in.

He'd been left food and water (again) but again Sam found himself with hardly an appetite. He did, however, force himself to eat, even if just a little; it would do no good if he was too weak to escape when the opportunity arose.

The water was another matter entirely. He guzzled it. It wasn't like he couldn't get it at anytime from the bathroom, but getting there wasn't as simple as it might have seemed.

Swiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he used the wall for support to rise. His left leg and right shoulder screamed in protest to his actions, but Sam didn't seem to notice even if he did coddle his broken right wrist. But, judging by the sweat that was beading on his brow, it was more likely that he was ignoring the pain as best he could.

"So … now we're standing Sam."

Without Dean's sarcastic wit at his side, Sam was making do with himself. He found he lacked sorely in the companionship aspect. But truthfully, he just missed Dean.

His brother had been such a constant in his life that, at times, he drove him to the brink of insanity. Sam realized now, when he was utterly alone, just how much he missed that craziness in his life. He missed his driving, his drinking, the way he hustled pool and women … all at the same time. He would have given anything for Dean to walk in at that very moment to smile and say, _"It's okay Sammy, I told you nothing bad was gonna happen to you."_

But Sam had the feeling that he was going to remain alone. And worse … that he was going to die alone.

Hobbling to the window, he stared out at the overgrown lawn. It gave him the impression that wherever he was, it wasn't a place that was cared for. Hazels drank in everything like a sponge. Sam was a vast wealth of knowledge, and he got that way by studying. His sudden environment was no different.

Leaning on the glass, he slowly perused the entire lawn … all from the vantage of his room. Then, his gaze took in the distance; the road beyond the lawn. Instantly Sam came to life. Squinting, he eyed the road, watching, waiting … as if just by thinking it a black impala was going to cruise by and Dean would spot him from the road.

His hopes were dashed as he heard the click of the lock. Sam, however, refused to turn and look at his captor. He'd decided that he wasn't going to give this doctor the satisfaction of seeing him break. He could beat him, make him scream in pain … but he wasn't taking his pride. He was hanging onto that for when Dean came.

And Dean was coming.

"Good afternoon Sam."

The voice was enough to make Sam sick to his stomach. But, despite the wave of nausea, he didn't turn, he merely grunted a reply.

"I said _Good Afternoon_…"

Again he refused to budge, refused to look, just stared out the window, searching, hoping, and praying for Dean to somehow know he was there.

There was a shuffling behind him, a quiet murmur, and then he was suddenly jerked from his stare out the window to stare directly at Allen. Sam couldn't help it; he winced as the sudden change in stance had weight bearing on his left leg.

"I believe Dr. Murdoch was speaking to you … boy!"

Despite the pain, Sam looked at the man (and was happy that he was looking down!), a sneer starting to curl on his mouth.

"Yeah? And I believe I was ignoring him."

He knew it was coming, but still nothing prepared him for the blow that sucked the air from his lungs and had him doubling over. Allen's fist had been accurately deadly, his aim delving for the soft, tender part of Sam's stomach. As Sam doubled and started to keel toward his knees, he jerked him up roughly, his voice menacing and too close for comfort.

"You owe the doc an apology for your insolence. Now be a good boy and say you're sorry."

"Fuck … you … "

The blows Sam received were fast and hard, and while he tried to defend himself, even throw in a few of his own punches as he had that first day, the injuries he'd already received made his decent to the floor faster than Sam would have liked.

Finding himself curled in the fetal position on the floor, his arms used in vain to try and protect his head, Sam tried to block the pain by playing a game he and Dean used to play when they were kids and cooped up in some crummy motel room, waiting for their father to return from his latest hunt.

"_You can't fly Sam! Now come down from there."_

"_I can do anything I wanna, Dean, and you can't stop me!"_

"_Just … come down from there, Sammy, before you get…"_

_The crash was deafening as Sam fell off the countertop, learning that he, indeed, could not fly, but what startled Dean the most was the scream that came from his brother._

"_Sammy! Talk to me! Are you okay?"_

_Sniffling, Sam turned and burrowed himself into his big brother as much as he could._

"_Dean?"_

"_Yeah Sammy?"_

"_You're the bestest big brother ever…"_

"Dean……………….."

The name was moaned from his lips as Allen jerked him upright, though Sam was only staying in that position because he was being held there. Smirking, the brutish man looked to Doctor Murdoch, who tugged Sam's cell phone from his pocket.

"Let's give him what he wants."

Moving toward Sam, Daniel squatted down and opened the phone, pressing the talk button to call Dean once again. This was his favorite part … tormenting the eldest Winchester, instilling that feeling of helplessness, of hopelessness.

"_Sammy?"_

"De…."

Sam perked a little at hearing his brother's voice. He lifted his head slightly, his gaze searching; seeking the comfort Dean had always given.

"_Come on Sammy, talk to me!"_

"I looked for you, Dean…."

"_Sammy, where are you?"_

Sam, however, was trying to wade through the fog that was currently his mind. Being beaten to a pulp (again) was not sitting well with his rational side, so it was out to lunch at the moment.

"Oh the floor … bleeding …"

"_Sam? Sammy, tell me where you are!!"_

"Dean?"

"_Yeah, Sammy?"_

"You're the bestest big brother ever."

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	8. Chapter 8

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I've stolen Sam and Dean and am currently holding them hostage from Kripke until … they hug.

I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one. It means the world!

Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

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"So other than the fact that some whacko made a hospital shut its doors, nothing has happened in this town?"

"Well … not exactly … "

"What do you mean no … "

The rest was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone, and while most of the hunters helping them had Dean's number, it always caused his heart to still when the phone rang. Snatching it out of his pocket, he glanced at the Caller ID even as he snapped it open.

"Sammy?"

Both Bobby and Joshua straightened, their eyes boring into Dean, though their looks, for the moment, were completely ignored in lieu of his phone call.

"_De…."_

The voice at the other end was low, weak, and it scared Dean more than anything else in the world.

"Come on Sammy, talk to me!"

"_I looked for you, Dean…."_

"Sammy, where are you?"

"_On the floor … bleeding …"_

"Sam? Sammy, tell me where you are!"

"_Dean?"_

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"_You're the bestest big brother ever."_

"Yeah, Sammy, and I'll be even better if you tell…."

There was a scuffling sound in the background, some muffled words before a very distinct voice came through, though it wasn't directly into the phone.

"_Say goodbye to your brother, Sam…"_

The scream was almost immediate, and so loud that both Bobby and Joshua leapt to their feet. Dean clutched the phone tightly, his knuckles turning white from the effort.

"Sam? SAMMY?!"

But the line was dead. He didn't even need to hear the click to know that it had been disconnected.

"SONOFABITCH!"

His left fist came crashing down on the table, the phone still held as if it were some lifeline to Sam. Some means to physically touch his brother … and in a way, it was.

Joshua and Bobby both stared at Dean, speechless for the moment, not to mention at a loss as to what to do. They had never been witness, until now, to one of the torturous phone calls that Dean was receiving. It was both agonizing and maddening all at once.

Bobby, not the sort of man that resorted to anything resembling a 'Chick Flick' moment was the first to step forward, a hand resting on Dean's shoulder.

"We'll get him back, son…."

Dean turned his head, the look Bobby saw in his gaze all too easy to read. There was hate in the young man's green gaze. A hate so thick it was nearly palpable.

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"_You know Gary, if you actually push the on button, that computer just might work better for you."_

"_Very funny, Winchester. Or should I say kid?"_

"_You could, but this kid just figured it all out."_

_With a smug look that the seventeen year old had to have learned from his older brother, Sam turned the computer screen a bit to show the elder hunter that Sam, in fact, had found just what they needed to know._

"_Well, I'll be … you did it, Sam."_

"_Yeah, pretty good … for a kid."_

_Gary looked to the youngest Winchester and shook his head before looking back to the computer screen as Sam rose to gather the print out. In so many ways, Sam was a kid. He had this innocence that should not exist in a hunter's son, especially not John Winchester's son. But there was something else in the boy. Something that Gary couldn't pinpoint, but he was certain he wasn't the only one who saw it. It damned near glowed from the kid._

Gary sat at the red light, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel as he sat impatiently waiting for the light to change to green. He'd known John, Bobby, and Joshua for more years than he wanted to count (the gray hair proved how many) and knew the Winchester boys nearly as long. He'd met John through Bobby, and of course, eventually came the introduction of the next generation of hunters.

Just before he contemplated actually running the light, it changed, and his foot hit the gas, causing the car to pull a wheel as he took off down the main drag of this one horse town stuck somewhere in the middle of a big bunch of nothing.

But there was more than just nothing.

It caused Gary to press the gad pedal down further, exceeding the speed limit more than most would dare in such a small town, but Gary wasn't most; he was a hunter. Hunter's just didn't seem to think about such trivial consequences as a ticket they would never pay in a town they probably wouldn't come back to … at least under the same alias.

Slowing only to pull into the parking lot of the local run down motel, also known as the Find Sam Headquarters, Gary pulled to a stop next to the rusted truck, gathered his papers, and then hurried to the door.

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Allen did as the doctor instructed, he sat in a chair, watching the sleeping man, and waiting for him to stir. Oh but he did more than obey an order, he studied his prey, calculated just where and when to cause the most pain … just what would cause the biggest scream. He loved that, it was like a musical symphony to sadistic ears.

Last night had been no different; he'd certainly gotten a yell out of the man when he'd slammed his already broken wrist to the ground, re-breaking it. But, it wasn't exactly what he wanted. He wanted him to beg, to plead, to cry and profess anything just for the pain to stop.

Sam Winchester refused to give him what he wanted.

Sitting there, he glared at the young man, his look of hate useless since he was out cold. Allen would fix that though. He'd make damn sure he had Sam begging … crying. He was going to have this Winchester kid praying to a new God.

Allen liked the title of Deity.

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"Dean, I'm telling you, if it's the last thing we do, we'll get this sonofabitch."

Joshua stood strong, his side already chosen a long time ago when he'd first met the Winchester's, a side he wasn't going to change, at least not in this lifetime. But still, he stood between Dean and the door.

"Get out of my way, Joshua."

Bobby stood behind the eldest Winchester, his gaze on Joshua, but his hand on Dean's shoulder as a means to instill some sort of calm in a situation that was way passed spinning out of control.

"I'm telling you Dean, we need …."

Three pairs of eyes turned as Gary opened the door to their room, all three boring into him for different reasons. Dean's hand had already been at the ready on his gun, just itching to blow something away. Bobby breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that the newest entrant could talk some sense into the angry, scared, and frustrated Winchester. Joshua, however, prayed that Gary's research had paid off, that he found something they could use.

Apparently God favored Joshua.

"Damn, judging by the welcome I'm getting, you wouldn't think that I just found out who has controlling interest in Nemesis."

A pin dropping would have rang out loud and clear in that moment as everything stopped. Dean's itchy fingers stilled on the butt of his gun, Bobby's hand paused in a grip of Dean's shoulder, and Joshua would have later swore that he'd died for a minute there; he certainly hadn't been breathing and that his heart had definitely stopped.

Then with a slam of reality, time sped back up with the motion of Gary's smile. He had no idea what went on behind closed doors only moments ago. All he knew was he'd gotten an entrance … a grand entrance at that.

"Well … "

Three voices came at once; Bobby's was anxious, Joshua's was impatient, and Dean's said that Gary had exactly 2.3 seconds before he was killed by Dean's itchy trigger finger.

"It seems Nemesis is owned by a Doctor Daniel Murdoch."

When there was no response from the three men, Gary sighed and continued.

"The same doctor that was seeking the fountain of youth, and would do anything, and probably did, to get it."

"I know that name from somewhere…"

Joshua looked to Dean to fill in the details, but when he didn't, he turned back to Gary. Bobby gave Dean's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before moving to the table, the brain of their operation, and dropped into a chair.

"He was a prominent citizen of the area, that is, until he got caught with his hand in everyone else's cookies."

Moving to the table, he dropped all the printouts he'd made, and then lowered into a seat.

"Seems odd that the only thing that has happened in the area has been some fucked up doctor trying to off his patients to learn the path to immortality."

"Well, that's not entirely true."

"What do you mean?"

"About fifty miles south of here there was one angry, pissed off spirit."

"What?"

Dean spun, his gaze immediately going to Bobby for explanation.

"That's what we were trying to tell you son, there had been a spirit killing people and all the signs of a Winchester hunt."

"So dad, Sammy, and I did a salt and burn, then some crazy doctor…."

"Actually, the crazy doctor was first, and Sam wasn't here. This was in 2003 I think."

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Consciousness was like a double-edged sword; it brought with it the light … but with the light came pain. Before Sam was even aware he was waking, he was aware of the pain. It was distant and hazy at first, like something far off on the horizon, a song not quite understood. He could hear the melody, hum it even … but the words were elusive.

Then the drums set it. Slowly at first, but the crescendo built to an unforgiving tone of noxious pressure that made his ears want to cave in and collapse on his brain. And once the singer worked up the nerve to finally utter a tune, it was like a Wendigo had taken up a duet with a Banshee and they decided to blare out some country tune that hadn't quite made it up to this century.

All they needed now was a banjo and the Apocalypse would have set in within his brain.

At that moment, as awareness started to drift into the blackness of his brain, Sam would have given anything to hear AC/DC blaring out of the speakers as Dean sang along off-key while his head rested against the passenger window of the Impala. It didn't matter where they were; they'd been just about anywhere. It just mattered that he was with Dean, and not here.

"Welcome to the real world, Sam."

Sam uttered a groan and pressed his face against his arm. He didn't want to face the real world; he wanted to fall back into a dream where Dean's hand was at his back. _"It's okay, Sammy, I've got this one."_

"Think you're going to survive this one, do you, Sam?"

John Winchester raised no fools in his family. Despite the fact that the Winchester's were prepared for life in a cruel world, Sam knew that one of these days their luck would run out. He wasn't so sure his hadn't on that Sasquach hunt. In fact, hope was slowly fading to the fact that he might be found in time. Regardless, he lifted his head, the weariness in his eyes hidden by a façade of sarcasm and cockiness borrowed straight from the archives of Dean Winchester.

"I'll live to salt and burn your ass."

The curl of his lips was short-lived as one hand grabbed his throat, the strength of that grip jerking Sam upright as he gasped for air.

"You sorry bastard, you think you are better than me?"

Sam's face changed from that pale shade of barely alive to bright red in an instant. His hands, once lax, had come up to swat at the man's face, one balling despite the pain in his wrist to swing at the man cutting off his supply of oxygen.

"Oh you think you're better than everyone. Refuse to give the doctor respect. Well, you'll respect this, won't you?"

Growing weaker, he gave up his fight against the man himself and batted at the hands that held his air in their grip. His strangled gasps grew quieter and his coloring went from red to purple.

"Let me tell you something, you cocky son of a bitch, I'll have you begging me for life, pleading with me for death. Do you hear me?!"

His leg kicked out in an effort to get away from the grip, his hands grappling desperately before falling to his sides. With one last rise of his chest, that too went still as a blue tinge tainted his lips.

"Allen?!"

The venom in Allen's eyes dissipated as his head jerked to the sound of Doctor Murdoch's sharp tone.

"What are you doing?!"

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Mail alerts are down, but I have been trying to get my reviews from my story stats. But, if I have missed anyone, it wasn't intentional! Thanks all, your reviews mean so much!

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	9. Chapter 9

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I faked all the signs of a poltergeist in my area. But all I got was those two stupid guys from Hell House! Um … does anyone know how to get rid of them?

I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one. It means the world!

Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

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Dean stood stock still for a moment, his mind processing all the information at once. The anger, while not gone, was suddenly vented toward something useful. It was as if a light bulb suddenly sparked over Dean Winchester's head before he moved to the table and sat between Bobby and Gary, though neither man got his attention … that went directly to Sam's laptop. The tapping of keys filled the room as all eyes were focused on the eldest Winchester, though Dean didn't seem to notice. Instead, he focused on his search.

"Huh…."

The sound was more to himself than anyone else as he stared at the most recent picture of one Daniel Murdoch. Staring a moment, he began typing again, his brows furrowing as he took on Sam's usual role … that of geeky investigator. After a few more clicks, he paused and stared, his face first furrowing in concentration, and then going lax as realization settled in.

"I know that man. Not only do I know him … but he's in town…"

He turned the laptop toward the other three, showing an older man than Dean remembered, but definitely the same man. The article in the local newspaper showing Murdoch's arrival, along with plans to restore and reopen Sunnydale Hospital.

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"_Dean … ?"_

"_What Sammy?"_

_The last was said with exasperation, and Sam knew he was treading on thin ice with his brother. He'd already pushed his limits ten pushes ago, but somehow he just couldn't stop this one last shove._

"_If you play ball with me, I won't tell daddy that you…"_

_But that was all Sam got out before his thirteen year old brother rose from the chair and towered over him. Being nine certainly had its disadvantages._

"_Go away Sam!!"_

"_But Dean, I…"_

"_No buts! I don't want to play with you, I don't want you around. Sometimes I wish I never had a kid brother at all!"_

"Breathe you bastard!"

_Sam, somewhere above the level of little kid, but definitely lower than adult, or even teenager, couldn't stop the tears that welled in hazels eyes. His mouth opened, quivered with the threat of tears, and he turned and ran down the hall to the bedroom he and Dean shared, only to slam and lock the door._

"You don't get to die until I tell you to, breathe damn you!"

"_Sam … Sammy wait!"_

_Dean, instantly regretting his choice of words, stood stock still for a moment before giving chase, but he wasn't quite fast enough as the door all but closed in his face. Grabbing the knob, he turned it, but again he was a second too late, and the lock clicked just an instant before his hand took hold. Hitting the door with his hand, he yelled._

"_Damn it, Sam, open this door right now!"_

"Allen, go get Doris. Now!"

_Apparently threats were not going to work, and neither was losing his temper. Sighing, Dean breathed in and out, willing himself to calm, willing his heart to slow as the image of his kid brother's face flashed before his eyes._

"_I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't mean it…"_

"One-one thousand … two-one thousand…."

"_Come on Sammy, I … life would be pretty boring without you, you know that kiddo? In fact … I'm … I'm not sure I could make it without my geeky sidekick of a brother…"_

_Suddenly the door opened to reveal a teary-eyed Sam standing there, his lower lip quivering, his breath …_

… sucked in suddenly in a gasp for air, a grasp for life. The sounds around him slowly swam in his head in a loud cacophony that was too much to handle. Turning suddenly onto his side, he coughed then threw up the crumbs that he'd managed to force down at some point, his chest heaving with the efforts before his head dropped to settle on his arm.

"Look at me."

Blinking, the sound of a voice filled his head, though he didn't make out the words, just the tone. It didn't matter; nothing mattered at that moment but sleep … pure blissful sleep.

"I said look at me."

Sam ignored it this time, the words echoing the demand in his head, a demand he refused to heed to. Sam hadn't even obeyed his father, so who did this bastard think he was? A grin curled his lips, then a soft chuckle emitted.

"I think he's gone crazy, Doc…"

But Sam had ceased listening; instead he fell into the lulling sounds of his own heartbeat, though the smile remained. Sam knew something they failed to see; even if they killed him, and they probably would, they were going to die … Dean would see to that.

Sam had never been surer of anything else in his life as he was of that.

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"So you're telling me this doctor's dead wife was the vengeful spirit?"

"Yup."

His word came at the same time as his foot pressed harder onto the accelerator.

"So the doctor, because his wife died, tries to find the key to immortality?"

Gary looked at Dean incredulously as they sped across the back roads of this one-horse town in search of a needle in a haystack. It was maybe a long shot, but the only shot they had at this moment, but a shot that Dean Winchester was grappling at just the same.

Following the black impala was Joshua's truck of the same color. The lack of color in both vehicles making them rather nondescript, something hunters craved. Gary tried drawing Dean out of the shell he was obviously in ever since realizing that the whacko doctor and the vengeful spirit's madman husband were one in the same. But nothing was going to lure Dean into pleasantries when he was close to finding his brother.

Nothing else mattered.

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The impala came to a halt along the side road that led to the hospital, Joshua's truck sliding in right behind it. Four doors opened at once, and closed just with one slam. The sun was lowering slowly across the sky, making the hunters drink in what they could of the landscape, though it went without saying that they would wait until the cover of darkness cloaked them in blackness and gave them an advantage over almost anyone.

"I'm going in first…"

Dean's head spun to stare at Joshua as if he'd lost what little mind he had left.

"You've got to be crazy if you think I … "

"Dean, _if _this is the madman that has Sam, he'll be _expecting _you to come charging in, guns blazing. Let's not give him that advantage. _If _he does have Sam, the element of surprise is the _only _thing we have."

Dean wanted to argue, in fact, his mouth opened to do just that, but closed just as quickly. No matter what his gut told him, Joshua was right … Sam's only chance stood on them taking them on by total surprise.

"Fine. I don't like it, but fine."

As Gary tugged out a map and the other three began discussing strategy in who was going in where, Dean stared at the building that, on inspection this close, was not so abandoned, what with the lights on and all. _Hang on Sammy, I'm coming._

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"_What are you doing?"_

_Daniel Murdoch was not shocked by much anymore, but two men at his wife's unmarked grave was enough to send him into panic._

"_We're here to help, sir, if you'll just step back."_

_Suddenly there was a drop in temperature and an unearthly screech before the form of his beloved Clara took shape._

"_Dean, rifle, now!"_

_A blast echoed through the night, the wail of his dead spouse all but deafening before it stopped altogether as she dissipated._

"_All right, get the salt, I've got the gasoline."_

"_Got it, dad…"_

"_Wait … salt? Gasoline? You're going to … burn her remains?"_

_Doctor Murdoch was stupefied. In all the years of the things he's seen, the things he's done, this just mystified him._

"_We're going to put her to rest."_

"_You mean kill her?"_

_That got him moving toward the pair of men that were covered in the dirt she'd been buried in. The elder one, the one the younger man called 'dad' was definitely in charge, though there was something burning in the younger man's eyes that Daniel would later recall on many a sleepless night._

"_You can't do that!"_

"_She's already dead!"_

_Another wail began, and again the younger man, Dean aimed the rifle at his love and fired. He could hear her pain in the pitch of her scream and covered his ears. So busy trying to drown out the sound of his wife's pain that he didn't see the strike of the match until it was tossed into the grave. That is, until it was too late._

_Clara's cry built to such a pitch he all but screamed himself as flames engulfed her remains._

"_Oh God, you've killed her!"_

"Sir…"

Daniel had been sitting in the room that held the youngest Winchester, staring at the man that would exact his revenge.

"Yes, Allen?"

He looked at his employee, the one that had nearly taken that away from him. Something had changed between them. It was indiscernible, but there just the same. Didn't matter, his plan was falling into place.

"Dean Winchester is here."

"Are you certain?"

Allen smirked, the look saying far more than any words could have. With that, Daniel smiled.

Moving right to Sam, he reached down and jerked his head up by a handful of shaggy brown locks, the groggy awakening of his young prisoner soon changing with the words he conveyed.

"Your brother is here."

Oh suddenly there was such hope in his eyes, it was so thick it was nearly palpable. Then, with a devious smile, he patted the younger man's cheek.

"Come boy, it's time to meet God…"

The look changed then, realization finally coming to the young Sam Winchester. Realization of what exactly the mad doctor had in mind.

"Nu…."

His throat was scratchy and raw, but the word came just the same as Sam struggled to move away from his captor. But Allen closed in, Sam's further protests thwarted as he was gagged before his arms were jerked roughly behind him, causing what would have been a yell from the man, as his wrists were bound.

It was then that Allen saw what he'd been longing for … fear. Grinning sadistically, he leaned toward the man's ear as the doctor moved toward the window to gaze out.

"Don't worry boy … it won't hurt … much.

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I had a _really _hard time with this chapter, so I'm really sorry if it's not my best. It was one of those things where I knew what I wanted to say, knew how I wanted it to go … but couldn't get it out just that way. But, despite that, I am posting it early, mainly because I took so long on the last three chapters. (I've actually been a chapter ahead throughout the story.)

I know that I skipped over what might have been said between the doc and Allen, but don't worry, that's coming. It was intentional on my part.

And again, thanks all for reading and reviewing, it means the world!

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	10. Chapter 10

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I got a viable lead to the whereabouts of Sam and Dean! But, when I showed up, I was kidnapped by aliens … who made me … slow dance with them!

I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one. It means the world!

Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

I have been going to my stories stats page and looking (and replying to) the reviews, though I'm pretty positive that no one is getting them as I think PM's are down along with everything else. So I would like to thank everyone that has reviewed to my story and let you know how much it means! Let's just be thankful the board is still up! Knock on wood!

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The plan was simple really; Joshua was going in first through one of the first floor windows, Bobby would go around back and sneak in through a service entrance, Gary was going around the side to the emergency entrance, and Dean … well, he was supposed to wait 15 minutes then come in … right through the front door. Joshua said it would be the least thing they would suspect.

There was one huge problem with that. Dean _hated _to wait.

So by the time their cloak of darkness finally came on full throttle and Joshua took off across the grounds, Dean was pacing, his face scrunched up with tension, his fists clenching and unclenching as a means to try and rid himself of this adrenaline that was rushing through him at a speed of mach 10.

"God I hate this shit!"

Bobby just put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, gave it a squeeze before he was off himself to sneak around the back of the hospital. Gary stood on edge, rocking from the balls of his feet to his heels and back … this hunt was far more important than the normal ghost and ghoul job. There was too much at stake. He watched Bobby slip around the back then clapped Dean on the shoulder.

"When we get Sam back, we're all going out for beers."

That said only to try and lighten a mood that was growing darker by the second. But Gary didn't stick around for any answer, he was hurrying off to the side to slip in the way the paramedics do. Dean stood, watching, pacing.

"God I hate this shit!"

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The window was easy … a little too easy, and Joshua raised a brow but didn't look a gift horse in the mouth. Though, his hackles were up along with his gun as soon as he slipped into one of the rooms.

It was empty and devoid of anything that made it appear to be a hospital room save one thing … that smell. After all these years of being empty, it still made Joshua shudder … damn he hated hospitals.

With the grace of a trained hunter, Joshua moved through the room, gun poised and ready, though his finger wasn't so itchy he would let off a wild shot. Oh no, Joshua, when he pulled the trigger, it was always with deadly accuracy. It was those skills now that moved him from the room to the corridor, his steps as silent as a panthers on a floor that was once shiny and full of equipment pushed by people in scrubs and shoes that didn't squeak when they walked. Neither did his.

At each door he would pause, gather his bearings and his wits before testing then pushing it open … and each time he came up empty handed. It didn't deter him, however. Something in this hospital was making the hairs on the back of Joshua's neck prickle … he had long ago learned to trust that instinct.

It was his instinct that didn't let him down when he came to the door that separated this wing from the rest of the hospital. Peering through the small window to check for anyone or anything on the other side, he gave the door a push … only to have it not budge but an inch. Testing it again, he frowned, peeked through the window again, then pushed on the door long enough to peer in the small crack. It was chained.

"Sonofabitch…."

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Bobby's entrance into the back door was uninhibited. It was rather easy as a matter-of-fact. It caused him to go onto instant alert, not that he wasn't there already. It made him think they were being _invited _into the wolves den or something.

"Damn it Sam, what'd you get yourself into…."

His mutter went on deaf ears as he crept through the hallway, his weapon never lowered as he kept it poised before him at all times. His feet trod carefully, making any that had seen his actions recognize him for what he was … deadly.

His movement was guarded as he came to the Nurse's Station, a place where anyone could hide … but all seemed quiet on the western front. He didn't fully trust his hearing however, and moved quickly … faster than anyone would have suspected of Bobby. Scoping the area, he went to each place a person could hide (including the desk itself) before he was satisfied. With a nod to himself, he moved toward the door that marked the entrance into the next wing … though it only budged an inch. Frowning, he pushed again, and then lowered to peer through the small crack between the doors.

"Chained? That just figures……"

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Gary made little haste getting in through the emergency entrance, and actually made it inside in less than two minutes.

"Like taking candy from a baby. I tell ya Sammy boy, when we get you out of here, I am so bragging about this…."

But … his entry was where the easy part of his journey ended.

"Ahh damn it all!"

Apparently every piece of equipment that was taken from every room in the hospital was stashed in the ER. So, instead of people sitting, pacing, and cluttering up the aisles, Gary had to weave through, under, and sometimes over crash carts and things that went beep in the still of a room.

His plight to get into the rest of the hospital didn't end there either. Once he cleared the Jungle Gym of Doom, he found himself quite literally trapped as the door leading to freedom (and quite possibly Sam) was blocked … chained to be exact.

"No one ever said babies could fight back for their candy."

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No one could have ever claimed patience to be a virtue that Dean Winchester possessed. So fifteen minutes was like fifteen hours or torture, fifteen hours he already felt he paid by listening to some sick bastard hurt (torture!) his brother. And for what? Because he wasted a ghost that was killing people?

Oh like _that _made sense!

So he waited, watched time tick slowly by on his watch, then finally (_finally!_) he made his move … in 13.2 minutes. But who was counting, right?

Slipping across the lawn of the hospital, Dean hoped that Joshua, Bobby, and Gary had already distracted whoever might be on the other side of the doors, though honestly, if they hadn't, well, that just meant Dean got to blow the heads off of more people.

Oh yeah, he was pissed.

"_Take your brother outside as fast as you can. Now, Dean, GO!"_

Ever since the fire that claimed their mother's life (and before if Dean were actually honest with himself) he had held a responsibility for his brother that went above and beyond the call of family. In some cultures they say if you save a life, you are forever responsible for that person … such was the case in Dean Winchester. 

And he took his job seriously.

Dean, unlike the others, encountered not a locked door that was all too easy to pick; he found an open door, an invitation to hell. Hell it might be, but he was prepared to enter the fiery pits to rescue his brother, and heaven be damned he'd take every son of a bitch down with him that dared harm a hair on Sam's head.

Oh yeah, Dean was pissed.

Gun raised and at the ready, Dean made a silent path down the long corridor of the main entryway, checking every door along the way. No patient room went unchecked, no path untouched. What he found was a trail, one leading him, dragging him along like a bull with a ring in its nose. The locked doors only pointing the way to the open pathways … a path Dean followed.

He would have followed Sammy to Satan's lair if that's what it took.

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For the first time since this whole thing began, Sam Winchester was terrified. Oh sure, he'd been scared, he wouldn't be human if he hadn't been. He'd been plenty scared. They'd beaten him, shot him, broke him, and choked him (of which Sam was pretty certain he'd been dead) but there was something that terrified him far worse than his own death, something that was stronger than his will to live … Dean.

Sam knew without a doubt why they'd kept him alive. Why they didn't just kill him. It wasn't like they hadn't had plenty of chances. It wasn't like they couldn't have just let him bleed to death when they shot him. Or hell, just left him dead when Allen choked him, though Sam had the sneaking suspicion that that incident was without doctor's orders.

All because Sam knew, he just _knew _that they kept him alive for one thing. So Dean could watch him die. And it was that thought that was more frightening than anything else Sam could have imagined.

Sam was also fairly certain, as Daniel Murdoch glanced out the window, that he hadn't heard Allen's whisper (promise) to make it hurt. Quite honestly, at that point, he wasn't sure who was in charge anymore, and that thought was equally as frightening.

Hazel eyes watched Murdoch as he stared out into the darkness, his ears straining to hear something … anything to let him know by some grace of God (as if that has _ever _happened before) that Dean was going to get there in time, that all was going to be well in the end. That Dean didn't have to watch him die. 

But the Winchester luck was never so good.

The doctor moved back toward him, and then squatted before Sam to pat his cheek like he was some kind of pet.

"Don't worry, Sam, it'll be over soon, then Dean will know, he'll understand…"

His tone was so calm, so patronizing that it made Sam almost physically ill, but he knew, with the gag on, if he threw up he'd end up choking on his own vomit. Sam did _not _want to go out that way.

Not that dying in front of Dean for some sort of twisted kick by a sick doctor was in the plans either.

Not wanting to lay dormant and accept fate lying down (literally) Sam pushed with his legs to try and gain some leverage, to get to his feet somehow. This seemed to please the doctor, for that all too maniacal smile formed on his mouth as he reached down and grabbed Sam by the hair, jerking him upwards with a force a man his size should not possess.

"Don't worry, Sam, it's all for the greater good … you'll see."

Gun in his free hand, Daniel Murdoch began to caress Sam's cheek, throat, and brow with the weapon, the grip he had of Sam's hair making moving impossible. He looked almost loving, as if what he was doing was for Sam's own good.

"Hey!"

Both Doctor Murdoch and Sam looked toward the sound. To Sam, the sound was of comfort and safety. _"As long as I'm around, nothing bad's gonna happen to you." _Of overbearing control. _"You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" _It was music to his ears, a lightening of his soul. All at once relief washed over him … relief and fear of what was to come.

"Get your filthy hands off my brother!"

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	11. Chapter 11

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I snuck into a prison just to try and get my hands on Sam and Dean … but all I found was some fat man that kept tossing the soap on the ground in front of me. HELP!

I am astounded by all the reviews I am getting on this story. Thanks to all who took the time to review, it means much! A special thanks to all of you who have stuck with me from my last story to this one. It means the world!

Thanks again to my friend Charlene for all the encouragement! You all can hate her though, cause she gets a sneak peek!

Rated T for foul language and torture. Of course, there is Hurt, Limp, and Abused!Sam, Over Protective (with a bit of hurt!) and Fired up Pissed!Dean, and lots of angst in this story.

Okay, seems alerts are still down, so thank you to ALL of you wonderful reviewers, it honestly gets me motivated to write! I have tried responding to them via going to my stats, but I don't think anyone got my responses because I'm pretty sure PM's are down too. So … without further ado … THANKS!

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"Hey!"

Both Doctor Murdoch and Sam looked toward the sound. To Sam, the sound was of comfort and safety. _"As long as I'm around, nothing bad's gonna happen to you." _Of overbearing control. _"You're a selfish bastard, you know that?" _It was music to his ears, a lightening of his soul. All at once relief washed over him … relief and fear of what was to come.

"Get your filthy hands off my brother!"

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Daniel Murdoch crouched on the ground, jerking a bound, gagged Sam toward him further, the gun he held pressed not to his head, but to his throat.

"Do you think if I fired now, it would kill him … or just make him wish I had finished the job?"

"I swear, if you try and shoot my brother, you'll be dead before you even hit the floor."

"Of that I have no doubt, Dean Winchester, but it won't be an attempt on my part. I _will _shoot Sam."

Gun poised and ready, Dean moved further into the room that held his brother captive, his gaze on the man holding Sam while his attention was on the youngest Winchester himself.

"You okay there, Sammy?"

He didn't really expect an answer, not in words as his brother was gagged, but Sam and Dean had long since mastered _the look_. It spoke volumes without saying a single word. They did it when collecting evidence, they did it when questioning witnesses … and they did it now. And something was definitely wrong. 

Sam had tried to move his head, but Murdoch jerked him back before he even got an inch to make a nod (that never got to happen) in the direction that Allen had been. Sam wanted so badly to signal Dean that they weren't alone (and just where was Allen anyway?) but all he could do was glance toward where the dangerous man had stood but a few moments ago.

"Oh he's just fine Dean … just … fine."

As Daniel Murdoch spoke, he shifted to press weight against his captive, the pressure bearing on his arm, and subsequently his wrist. It got the desired reaction and Sam clenched his eyes shut as his face contorted in pain.

"Get off him right now or I swear to God I'll … "

The crazy doctor pressed the gun so hard against the side of his throat that Sam had trouble swallowing, even breathing was a challenge.

"One more step Dean, and Sam will meet God far sooner than you think."

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"Sonofabitch!"

Joshua wasn't a man who liked delays; in fact, he probably would have put Dean Winchester to shame in the battle of the most impatient man on earth. Winning only because of one thing … John Winchester was no longer amongst the living.

Slamming his hand against the chained door, he turned to make his way back to the exit, that option being far easier than trying to cut through a chain without any tools. Moving faster than he'd approached, he turned corners and bypassed doors, his path intent on the same window he'd snuck in through.

"Don't move."

The voice wasn't nearly as menacing as the click of the guns safety coming off. It caused Joshua to pause, to furrow his brows as his mind raced and hunter's instincts definitely took over.

"Drop your weapon and turn around slowly."

Joshua lowered to place his gun on the floor, his hands out where the man behind him could see them. Turning as he rose, he caught sight of the man from the corner of his eye. Quickly he assessed, calculated, and made his move in a spin that took the would-be assailant's feet from under him.

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Bobby's fist connected with the man's sternum so fast as he fell that he never even had a chance to catch his breath before it was gone. Even so, there was another crunch as an elbow hit his nose, followed by a blow to the side of the man's head that left him incapacitated.

"Teach you to mess with Bobby on a hunt!"

The older hunter said in a huff of annoyance. Bobby was usually laid back and easy going. Even when a possessed Sam had sputtered and spewed steam from the holy water he'd laced his beer with, he'd remained calm. But, then again, Sam had been right there. Now he wasn't, and that just wasn't okay in Bobby's book.

Reaching down, he felt for a pulse, and was a little irritated that he actually found one. 

"Great, now I have to tie you up."

The man honestly deserved a bullet in his head … or worse … one in his stomach to just let him slowly bleed out. But Bobby wasn't a murderer, at least under normal circumstances. What stopped him, however, was not the morality of it all … it was the simple fact that a gunshot would alert whoever else that was out there … whoever had Sam.

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Gary rose from his crouched position to seek something to hold the man in place until he could come back and finish the job. Moving through the Jungle Gym from hell, he came back, with of all things, a doctor's mask and some scrubs to detain his friend.

Smirking, he began work on the man that was, for the most part, unconscious. However, when he began to stir, the barrel of his gun was placed just at his temple, the hunter's tone leaving little doubt as to his intentions.

"Where's Sam?"

With a bloodied grin, the detained man looked up, his look demented at best.

"Dead."

"No he's not you bastard, now tell me where he is or I make a not so pretty hole in your face."

The man seemed to rethink his bravado, his pause causing Gary to press his weapon harder against his head. That spurred him into action.

"Follow the main corridor, you'll find him."

Gary lifted the mask, but before he could gag the man (because he'd given him what he wanted) he spoke again, the words causing his blood to freeze.

"But you'll be too late if Dean's already there."

"What? Why?"

"Because that's when Doctor Murdoch is going to kill him … when Dean's there to watch."

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"Do you honestly think you're going to get out of here alive?"

Dean looked from Sam to the doctor, his focus trying to remain strong as pain etched on his baby brother's face. Murdoch, just to prove a point, pressed his knee further against Sam's twice broken wrist. The reaction was instantaneous; the young man's cry of pain was muffled by the gag, but apparent enough to cause his nemesis to stop in his tracks.

Sam clenched his eyes shut as excruciating pain ripped up his arm, causing a tear to escape and leave a trail down the side of his face to get lost in his hairline. Through his nose he sucked in air, hoping to push the pain away, but the demented man who held him kept a firm press of his knee to Sam's wrist, making detachment impossible.

"Look, you don't need to do this. You want me; you got me, but leave Sam out of this."

"Just like you left Clara out of it?"

Dean arched a brow, but tried to keep his face impassive, tried to keep the game plan firmly in place.

"She was killing people."

"She was fulfilling the plan!"

"She was hurting innocent people. Just like Sam. Sam's innocent in all of this."

Doctor Murdoch looked to Sam for a brief moment before his gaze flickered back to Dean, giving Dean one instant of hope before it was dashed as the man pressed the gun so hard against his brother's throat that he swore he stopped breathing.

"Sam is but a pawn, Dean. He is serving his purpose."

"And what purpose is that? What can this possibly do that is any good?"

"He is showing you, Dean."

"Showing me what?"

Dean's voice was starting to rise as he watched Sam because he wasn't sure if he was breathing or not. The tension in the air was making him sweat, the gravity of the situation making him dizzy. _"I gave you an order; you were supposed to watch out for your brother." _And he felt like he was failing at the one job that he was truly good at; that of big brother.

"What it's like to watch someone you love die."

Dean's heart stilled, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. When he finally was able to breathe again a few seconds later, the words he forced out were slow, calculated, and in a voice he wasn't sure was his.

"She was already dead."

"That's where you're wrong, Dean Winchester, I gave my Clara eternal life."

If there was ever a moment in which the entire world stopped turning, that was it for Dean. His brows furrowed, his mouth twisted, and he could have sworn that even Sam, despite the pain he was in, caught onto that.

"What …………………………….?"

"I found the secret to eternity, and you and your father came in and took that from her!!"

"You mean … you killed your wife?"

"I gave her everything! It was all for her! Then you … you came in and …"

"You sick son of a bitch! You killed her!"

Doctor Murdoch pressed the gun further against flesh that was now coated in a sheen of sweat, though whether it was from pain, fear, or both wasn't clear.

"No, you killed her, and I'm going to kill him!"

Dean took one step forward, his mouth forming the word that was drowned out as a deafening gunshot echoed throughout the room.

"Nooooooo!"

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	12. Chapter 12

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I tried making a deal with a demon, swearing that I'd do anything (_**anything**_) if she gave me Sam and Dean. I woke up three days later smelling like cigarettes, stale beer, and burned flesh as Bobby just acted like nothing have ever happened.

I just wanted to mention that a couple of people have thought that the hospital name (Sunnydale) was taken from Buffy. In all honesty, I've never watched Buffy (as the thought of anything to do with Luke Perry was enough to make me gag even though the show didn't have him in it) or even saw a preview. So, alas, the name was pulled from my head (or my ass, lol).

Alerts are back up!! For any that didn't get a reply to a review, I _thought _that I replied to all of them, but, if I happened to miss yours, it was _**purely **_accidental! All of your reviews mean so much; I do appreciate you taking the time to let me know what you think. So, without further ado … Chapter 12!

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"You sick son of a bitch! You killed her!"

Doctor Murdoch pressed the gun further against flesh that was now coated in a sheen of sweat, though whether it was from pain, fear, or both wasn't clear.

"No, you killed her, and I'm going to kill him!"

Dean took one step forward, his mouth forming the word that was drowned out as a deafening gunshot echoed throughout the room.

"Nooooooo!"

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Joshua climbed from the window, landing on the ground with a soft sound that only those with the keenest sense of hearing would have heard. Without gathering his balance, he took off, righting himself up as he went. Moving around the side of the hospital, he nearly ran right into Bobby … both hunters immediately lifting their guns to aim at the other.

"Damn it, I almost shot you!" Both men yelled at once.

"Did you find anything?" Again their voices rang in unison. Shaking his head, Joshua held up a hand to still Bobby's words, which, knowing their record so far would be just what Joshua had to say.

"I found a chained door and then some idiot who thought he could get the drop on me."

Bobby nodded, about to say something when a rustle (albeit slight) drew both their attention. Turning as one, guns raised and ready, they only paused as the face of their would be target came into view.

"Damn it Gary, I almost shot you!" Again Bobby and Joshua seemed to share one brain as they lowered their weapons to a surprised Gary.

"Find anything?"

Both Bobby and Joshua gave each other the patented Winchester look (apparently on loaner for the day) before looking back to Gary. Opening his mouth to speak, if words did actually come out, they were drowned out by the lone gun shot that reverberated throughout the hospital grounds.

"Shit!"

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The sound echoed as he fell, though in all honesty, he didn't have far to go. The demented doctor had been squatting when he jerked him up, so as the blast resounded through the small room, Sam slipped from his grasp and keeled backward.

But there was no pain. Maybe that meant he was already dead. Maybe the plan had been fulfilled. He thought on this for but a split second, his head nearly hitting the floor in that downward plunge that was so surreal Sam expected to wake up any minute. 

Only he didn't wake up … he was hoisted up to his feet, the pain that went through his thigh at the sudden motion causing a grunt around the gag.

"Stop right there, Winchester!"

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"_How dare you!"_

_Dr. Murdoch checked Sam Winchester's pulse again before standing to face Allen, his fury quite evident on his face. Allen, for all his anger that seethed out of every pore, just stared and said nothing.  
_

"_You know the plan, Allen, and you damn near ruined it!"_

"_He … attacked me!"_

_Dr. Murdoch looked to the unconscious prisoner, the pawn in all of this, then back to Allen._

"_Just remember who's in charge here, Allen. I could make or break you; it'd be good if you remembered that!"_

_Allen stood a moment, his fists clenching and relaxing, the hate that seeped from him nearly tangible enough to touch, to smell, to taste, and to feel. It could definitely be seen._

"_You can leave now, Allen. Right now I can't stand to look at you."_

_Dr. Murdoch didn't even look up, he just went back to tending to that … bastard._

As soon as Daniel Murdoch had gone to Sam, his gun used in a loving declaration, Allen had followed the plan and stepped out of sight into the only hiding place in the hospital room … the bathroom.

It was there he waited. He had plenty of patience in this game of cat and mouse. After all, he was above the cat … he was the dog. Or God, depending on which way you spelled it.

He even held his position as the elder Winchester interrupted the doctor's seemingly caring confession. It was mildly amusing, Dean and Dr. Murdoch battling for control of the situation. How little they both realized that neither one was winning this battle. Oh, but they would learn … he would make sure of that.

And he did.

Just as Dr. Murdoch had reached the end where he was to show Dean Winchester the God-awful truth of the pain of loss, just as the man who had been his mentor was about to pull the trigger, Allen beat him to it. The sound barely made the gunshot known before Allen stepped forward, a hand hoisting Sam up to stand where he wrapped one arm around his throat and aimed his smoking gun at his head.

"Stop right there, Winchester!"

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"Nooo!"

Dean moved forward, every instinct telling him to jump in front of that bullet (as if he could have ever been fast enough) to stop his brother from falling. But despite his movements, Sam was falling. Sam was dying.

Sam was suddenly up with a burly arm around his throat.

"Stop right there, Winchester!"

Dean froze as another gun was pointed at his brother (What was it with Sam attracting lunatics anyway?) and lifted his own weapon to aim at the man holding Sam.

"You're not gonna make it out of here alive."

"Oh that's where you're wrong, Dean, you see, I have the one thing that holds all the cards."

"Oh yeah, and what's that?"

"I have Sam."

Dean's gaze shifted to Sam. The sheen of sweat that had been on his brow was now pasting shaggy locks to his forehead, the look of pain intensified as he tried shifting his weight to one leg.

A movement drew his gaze back to the man holding Sam, his hand drawing Dean's attention as he jerked the gag that had stilled Sam's voice down.

"Say good bye to your brother, Sam."

Allen made a move toward the door; Sam forced to move as the stronghold around his throat held him in a grip that made breathing a chore. Dean knew (_just knew_) if he let the madman (and just when did this second, more demented man come into the picture?) out of here with his brother, he wasn't going to see him again, so he stepped to the side, blocking his exit.

"You're not leaving here, not with Sam."

Allen, just for a show, tightened his grip around Sam's throat, causing a gasp from the youngest Winchester. With his arms bound, he couldn't even try and tug him off, so Sam struggled to stay upright, though his left leg wasn't fully cooperating with the right. It nearly buckled from under him, causing Allen's hold to tighten all the more. Sam's face went from pale, to red, to purple in a matter of seconds.

It was precious seconds that Sam didn't have.

"Let him go!"

The bravado had, however, left Dean Winchester's voice as he watched Sam slowly stop struggling, the look on Allen's face enough to make his blood boil to sizzle steam from his ears. To say Dean wanted to watch the man die was an understatement.

He wanted him to suffer in every way imaginable.

"Once I'm free…"

Allen had no intention of ever letting Sam Winchester go. In fact, he had no intention of letting Dean get off without fulfilling the doctor's plans. Doctor Murdoch might be dead, but Allen was _still _going to make Dean watch his brother die. Only, it wasn't going to be one quick shot to the head. He was going to make Sam scream.

Dean, seeing his brother lose that red hue for something more in the blue range of the rainbow, growled as he lowered his weapon.

"Fine, but I swear to God, if you so much as harm a hair on my brother's head…"

"It's a little late for that Dean Winchester…"

Allen's smile turned into a sneer as he started backward for the door, Sam kept between himself and the elder Winchester.

"You see Dean, every bruise…" And he jerked backward on Sam's wrist, not only jarring the broken bone there, but also aggravating his shoulder.

The reaction couldn't have been more perfect as Sam let out a yell in pain. Dean, true to form, started to move forward, only to have Allen tightening his hold on both his throat (causing Sam's face once again to mimic a rainbow) and his wrist.

"Now, now Dean, let's not have Sammy get to hell before his time, eh?"

"You first you sonofabitch…"

Allen, so cocky in his escape, in his plan to watch Sam Winchester suffer inexplicable pains in front of his brother (just to take that pride he'd held desperately onto) never heard the footsteps come from the door he was backing toward, he never knew Joshua was there until his voice cut through the deranged inner machinations that involved pain and suffering at his hands.

The shot that rang out in the once pristine room that had once housed some of the most brilliant (and demented) doctors in all of Tennessee, was answered in turn by a second shot just seconds after the first.

The yells that no doubt put the breaking of the sound barrier to shame went on deaf ears as Sam Winchester fell in a heap that Allen's arm dragged him down in.

"_Damn it, Joshua…"_

The room was stifling, the heat suddenly making breathing difficult at best.

"_Where's he hit?"_

Black dots clouded his vision, the colors around him swimming to form one blurry image before dissipating into that abyss that takes away the pain, that takes away everything until there is nothing left.

"Dean……………"

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I have to say that this chapter was the second one in this story that was a pain to write. I knew what I wanted, in fact, had it pretty much mapped out … it was getting it from head to type that was the challenge. Sometimes I swear my fingers are dyslexic, so, if the chapter sucks, blame the left hand! LOL!

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	13. Chapter 13

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Okay, so I read IT, and thought to myself _"How hard can it be?" _So I dressed up in a clown suit, faked some deaths and crap (Talk about _that _costing a pretty penny!) and pranced around some fair. Next thing I knew, I was being shoved into some _really _small car with about twenty other jerks that had the same idea as I did!!

I really appreciate the reviews I received on the last chapter, even the constructive ones! Knowing that you all are enjoying the story really does make me write all the faster. Thanks so much to all of you that have offered your continual support (you know who you are) it honestly makes me smile whenever I see your replies. So … without further ado, unlucky number 13. And … Katie … there is one part in this just for you. And Rachelly … I dedicate the last half of the chapter to you!

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"_Of all the stupid things you've ever done, Sam!"_

"_Dean, I…"_

"_No, Sam, no! This one took the cake!"_

"_But Dean, I … "_

"_No, Sam, just shut up, cause I'm pretty pissed at you!"_

"_Dean … ?"_

"_WHAT?!"_

"_I'm gonna pass out now…"_

Later, Dean would have sworn that when that first gunshot echoed in the room that his heart exploded with what could best be described as panic … pure and utter panic. The room slowed, everything froze for one minute, only Dean being able to interact with anything, though that was pointless considering everyone and everything else was frozen and Dean himself was too stunned to move.

Then another deafening crack resounded in the room, sending blinding white light to burn up his side and get Dean's legs moving.

_Sam._

His heart slammed against his chest and once again the room was a flurry of motion that could best be described as chaos. The arm around his brother's neck tightened as the man holding him captive fell backward. Sam, unable to support his own weight much less pull against a force drawing him down, swayed for one brief moment, his eyes becoming totally coherent for that split second that he remained upright … then he fell backward, his fall only being cushioned by the sick bastard that had tried to kill him.

"Damn it, Joshua … "

Bobby's voice barely registered in Dean's mind as he dropped to his knees, the gasp from his brother bringing Dean's awareness back to focus as Sam struggled to breathe, the burly arm of Allen still pinned around his neck.

"Let go of him, you sonofabitch!"

The initial crunch of bone hitting bone was distinct and drew the attention of the other three that entered the room, but Dean paid it little mind as his fist flew again and again … the crunch being replaced a sickening squish sound as bone gave way to the fatty tissue it was trying in vain to protect. Blood splattered with the next hit, spraying his face in a way Dean had become quite used to. But, as his arm drew back for another punch to the fallen man, something hooked under him and dragged him back.

"Get off me!"

"Dean, let Joshua help Sam."

The reasoning voice of Bobby did little to calm Dean's seething emotions that had, since this whole thing began, been pent up to fester like an infection harboring beneath the surface, only to erupt in a primal rage that wasn't easy to control in the best of circumstances.

This was hardly the best of circumstances.

"Where's he hit?"

Gary's voice broke through his anger induced fog that saw but one thing … Allen's bloodied face. He didn't see Joshua drag Allen's arm off of Sam. He didn't see Gary pull Sam from the tangle of limbs where he'd fallen. He didn't even see Sam take a gasping breathe of air.

What he saw was blackness dancing across his vision, threatening to take away his coherency … threatening to take away Sam.

"_Dean … ?"_

He shrugged off the weight on his shoulder, not fully comprehending that it was Bobby's hand resting there, and crawled toward Sam.

"_Sam? Can you hear me Sam?"_

Reaching his baby brother, Dean reached out with his hand, shaking fingers finally making contact with Sam's cheek. _Warm … he was warm. _Then moved upward to brush sweat soaked locked from Sam's brow. "You never do things halfway, do you Sammy?"

"_Dean, you're bleeding."_

Suddenly it dawned on him how still his brother was. How utterly still and helpless looking. Blinking, Dean nudged his face with his fingers. "Sam?"

"_Dean, let me take a look at your side."_

He searched Sam's face for any sign of stirring but found none, so he grabbed his shoulder and shook it. "Get up Sam!"

"_Dean, let me see how badly you're hurt."_

With no reaction from his brother, his baby _dying _brother, he lightly slapped his cheek. "Don't you do this to me, Sammy, do you hear me!" He shook him again and went for a third when a hand caught his wrist, drawing him out of the _Sammy's dying _vortex.

"He's not dead, Dean, but you will be if you don't let me look at your side!"

Dean finally pulled away from that black fog that had been trying to envelop him and glanced down to the blossoming flower of red that coated his side, then to Sam and the identical bloom of red on his side.

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_As the gun behind him fired, Allen pulled the trigger on his own weapon, meaning to take out his hostage with him, but the impact of the bullet piercing his brain jerked him in a dance forward. The movement altered his deadly move, his aim skewing as his arm jerked, and the blast meant for Sam Winchester's back hit his side. The bullet ripped through the youngest Winchester's side in a deep flesh wound before stopping as it impacted in Dean's side in another flesh wound that left both brothers bleeding. A small price to pay considering the alternative._

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"How is he, Joshua?"

The dark haired hunter lifted his head of his perusal of Sam to glance to Bobby. "I could ask you the same."

Both hunters were in the midst of damage control on their charges, Joshua working on Sam while Bobby worked on a rather testy Dean.

"How's Sam?"

Dean's demand had Bobby grumbling and Joshua glancing over before turning back to the youngest Winchester. "He's alive, Dean." It was really the best he could give him considering he wasn't a doctor. Ironically, it was a doctor that did this to him.

"Time to go, gentlemen."

Everyone but Sam (who was still mostly out of it) looked up as Gary entered the room after going to inspect the grounds for any more signs of trouble.

"Cops here?"

"No, but if my guess is correct, they won't take much longer. So if you pansies are ready …?"

Joshua turned back to Sam and patted his cheek. "Come on Sam, time to wake up." For all his effort, the elder hunter received not even a groan. Sam Winchester was down and out for the count, and Joshua's words weren't doing a thing to rouse him. "Come on Sam, we'll let you sleep in the car, but right now I…."

Suddenly Joshua was pushed to the side as a distraught Dean came to settle by Sam's shoulder. "Sammy?"

With no response, Dean's voice grew more agitated, more concerned. "Come on Sam, you gotta get up."

With still nothing, Dean took on that authoritative tone that their father used to use when he meant business. "Get up Sam!"

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_Pain exploded in his back and Sam was once again thrown into a wall, only to plummet to the floor with a thunk._

"Sammy?"

_He barely had time to catch his breath before he was ripped from his resting spot to slam into, of all places, the ceiling. Hitting with a groan, he stared in horror as he hovered there a few minutes, as if the ghost was taunting him into some false sense of security. Then the force that held him relinquished its control and Sam fell to the floor with a sickening thud. _

_Blackness started to take control, though somewhere in the back of his mind he heard a wail from the ghost in its last efforts to stay on this plane of existence. Good, Dean got the fucker…_

"Come on Sam, you gotta get up."

_He tried ignoring the voice; the one that calmed him when he'd had a bad dream and was now urging him to face something he most definitely did not want to face … pain. Clenching his eyes closed, he tried pretending that it didn't exist, that his very world was not centered on that voice._

"Get up Sam!"

The blackness ebbed enough for Sam to realize one thing … he hurt! His mouth opened and closed, and finally he squinted his eyes open to spy a blurry figure.

"Sam?"

"Dean … ?"

As the outline of his brother's face began to take shape, Sam smiled in relief, then immediately regretted that small movement. Even something as simple as a smile was sounding out the drums of war in his head.

"How … ?"

"I had my Sammy radar up!"

Sam closed his eyes again, his security blanket once again enveloping him with Dean's presence.

"No no, Sammy, you gotta stay awake."

"Jes five more minutes Dean…"

"No, Sam, up!"

That urging _demanding _call had Sam's eyes opening again, and once again he was greeted with the blurry shape of his brother.

"How ya doing, kiddo?"

Sam opened his mouth to speak but suddenly Bobby's face was seen looming over Dean's shoulder.

"I hate to break up the reunion, but we need to high tail it for the hills. We've overstayed our welcome."

Dean's brows furrowed as he looked to his kid brother. Sam knew that look … whatever they were going to do, it was going to hurt. Swallowing, he nodded very slowly to try and stop the rumble in his head from happening.

"Let's go…"

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Getting Sam up was easier said than done. While he had gotten on his feet on his own since being shot, the wound in his thigh sent a lightening bolt up his limb to his stomach as soon as Dean (with the help of Bobby) got him on his feet.

The groan (along with that sudden green color he was sporting) was the only warning before Sam was listing forward, the nothing he had in his stomach trying to come up in waves that had his back and stomach muscles clenching so painfully it brought tears to Sam's eyes. Squinting them closed, one lone tear escaped the corner of his left eye to trail down his already sweat soaked cheek.

Leaning forward, he barely registered the strong hands holding him up as he heaved again; the only sound registering was the sound of his own retching as his gut heaved painfully.

Slowly, however, something worked its way through the fog that was Sam's pain; something soothing, calming … something so utterly familiar. While strong hands held him, it was the methodical rubbing at his back that began to ease the pain that had been merciless in its intensity until that moment.

"It's okay, Sam."

The words were low, murmured, and while no one else in the world might have taken heed to them, to Sam Winchester they possessed a sort of magic that no other sound in the universe could have accomplished. It wasn't the words themselves, but rather the voice _the man_ behind the words.

"You're going to be okay."

Slowly his stomach calmed, though it never fully relaxed, and his mind cleared enough to be able to nod his head, to acknowledge that he was okay. That hand on his back kept rubbing for a moment as both men at his side waited until Sam regained his breath and gathered his bearings before they started to move.

"Where're we going?"

Bobby's voice barely registered as he and Dean talked over him. Sam just concentrated on his next step, on the next move that shot pain up his leg.

"I hate to say it, but the hospital."

"We can tend to him in … "

"His hand's broken, we can't fix that."

Sam didn't notice Bobby nod. He barely heard their words. Just that voice. The one that chased all the demons away. _"Can I sleep in your bed Dean?" _The one that put the world back on its axis. _"Sure Sammy…" _The one that had Sam Winchester closing his eyes and just breathing through the pain. _"You're going to be okay." _All because Dean told him so.

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Okay, one more chapter to go! It's sort of an epilogue, but finishes up everything. I'm really ecstatic at the reviews I've been getting, not to mention the people that have given me continual support! It means so much. I also have that little tickle in my head for another story! So, as soon as I wrap this one up, I'll be working on it. It might take a week or so, as I have TONS of things that I am behind on. Did I mention computer crashes suck? Sam and Dean should HUNT my old hard drive!

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	14. Chapter 14

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So I said Supernatural three times, in front of the bathroom mirror in the dark. I waited with bated breath, hoping beyond hope that my dreams would finally come true. Suddenly two yellow eyes flashed before me before a loud crack was heard … and all I got in the end was a busted bathroom mirror and seven years of bad luck.

This is it guys, the last chapter! I hope I don't disappoint anyone, or worse … that it's anticlimactic!

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"Family of Sam Harper?"

Dean and Bobby instantly rose. They had been waiting in the hospital for the better part of three hours. The trip there had been haphazard at best, though Sam had been blissfully unaware of Dean's crazy driving as he was too busy being unconscious for the duration of the trip. Bobby, however, recalled every pothole with a vividness that his ass would not soon forget.

"Yes." Both hunters said at once causing the doctor to raise a brow, though he kept his opinions to himself.

"If you two will follow me…"

Dean started to protest, to demand to see Sam, but Bobby laid a calming hand on his shoulder reminding him that now was not the place to voice his no doubt caustic opinions. Dean glowered, giving Bobby a look he knew well, as he should, his father used to wear it often when it came to stubbornness. It was a look that quite clearly said _fine, but if this asshole doesn't hurry it up, I'm going to salt and burn his ass. _It was a look Dean had inherited naturally from the legendary John Winchester.

Moving down a corridor that reminded him too much of the place they had just pulled Sam out of, Dean clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles were white from the effort. An effort that was proving difficult as all he wanted to do was throttle the doctor. Not only this one, but also every other one that dared come near his brother.

"How's my brother?"

Doctor Martin just ushered them into the small conference room and nodded to the chairs there. Dean looked at the chairs, then to the doctor, and while he did sit, it was on the edge of his seat as he awaited news.

Bobby, realizing he might need to play mediator, or help kick the doctor's ass depending on the situation, stayed at Dean's side, a hand resting on his shoulder as he too eyed the man in the white coat.

"He's … resting … "

That drew both hunters' alerts to full force for the answer was cryptic at best. Dean, starting to rise, felt Bobby's hand once again tighten on his shoulder.

"Tell me again, Mr. Harper, how did your brother receive his injuries?"

Dean took a breath, his eyes level at the man who professed to be helping Sam. He wasn't. Didn't he realize that the best medicine for Sam was to allow Dean near him? To let the brothers heal each other in a way that only their close bond could?

Apparently not.

"He was jumped. By the time my Uncle Bobby and I got there, Sam was practically dead…"

Doctor Martin just stared, his own opinion held in check as he nodded.

Dean, unable to contain his anxiety any longer, blurted out in a rush, "How is he?"

"Well, your brother's condition is stabilized now, though with the blood loss we were worried there for a bit. His left leg wound was showing signs of infection, so we treated him with a heavy dose of antibiotics."

He looked at Dean pointedly at that, it being no secret that there had once been a bullet in his leg … a bullet that had been expertly removed. But, getting no reaction from the elder Winchester, he slowly continued.

"His right shoulder had been dislocated, and while it has been set right, he should refrain from using it for anything strenuous."

Dean was eyeing the man, waiting for the but, the cosmic bang that would send Dean hurtling toward some black Sammyless hole where life just didn't measure up to an ounce of shit.

"His wrist was broken in three places; we've set and cast it. And his side was stitched. That is not taking into account the multitude of bruises or the fact that your brother had been choked. All in all, Mr. Harper, I would say that your brother is a _very _lucky man."

Dean hardly blinked as the doctor rattled off the things _wrong _with Sam. In all honestly, Dean was almost smiling. If there were things _wrong _with him, that meant he was still _alive _and hanging in there.

"Can I see him?"

Doctor Martin sighed and finally nodded. He didn't know what had happened to bring the young man in his care into the hospital in such a state, but it was obvious something was being covered up.

"Very well, but he's been sedated, so I doubt he'll be very coherent."

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Dean sat at Sam's bedside, staring at his brother, his _baby _brother. At how still he was, how quiet he was.

"_God, Sam, will you shut up!" _

"_I just wanna know which exorcism works best on which demons, I mean, if I get a … " _

"_Sam!" _

"_But Dean … " _

"_No! Just. Shut. Up!" _

Sam was never quiet! Not even in his sleep. He tossed, turned, and bed hogged all night long.

"_Can I sleep with you, Dean?"_

"_God, Sammy, you'll steal all the covers."_

"_I promise, Dean, please…"_

And he had this sickly aura about him. His skin was pasty, something Dean only saw in Sam when he was ill or hurt.

"_Come on Sammy, we gotta get you in the tub."_

"_I don't feel so good, Dean."_

"_Yeah, I know, kiddo, but we gotta bring your fever down."_

Reaching out, he tentatively brushed a strand of brown from his brother's closed eyes, and then grasped his hand before ducking his head down to rest his forehead on the back of Sam's hand.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry."

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A tingling sensation tickled his flesh, bringing awareness back to an unconscious Sam Winchester. With that tingling sensation was a fogginess that made everything, including truly coherent thought, elude him.

"D…………."

The one sound he made was raspy at best, making it quite apparent that cotton had taken up root in his mouth while some wild beast scratched his throat until there was nothing left to make sound with.

"De … Ug … "

He tried moving his hand and found that one had some heavy weight bearing it to the bed, and the other … well, as soon as he twitched his fingers pain shot up in an electric current up his arm. 

"Dea…….."

"Sammy?'

The voice had him trying to open his eyes, though it took several seconds for his brain to get them working properly. But even those few seconds didn't make them coordinated. First the left worked and then slammed shut, only for the right to open then close.

"Come on Sammy, you can do it."

"Thirsty…"

There was so much, in that moment, that Sam could have said to his brother. So much to thank him for, so much to wonder about, but in that one waking moment, Sam knew Dean would have balked at his words of gratitude, so he waited, bid his time, and gave Dean his need instead. It was something Dean seemed to relish in, taking care of Sam.

Sam felt the bed shift, felt Dean move from his spot only to feel his hand under his head a moment later, his gentle urging lifting Sam up a bit so he could drink. The cold water had a calming effect on Sam, and after a few swallows, he tried to pull away, which sent a dribble of water down his chin to splash the sheet below.

"Sorry, Sammy."

Sam's eyes remained closed for so long that Dean actually reached out to touch his chest and give him a small nudge.

"Sammy?"

He was rewarded with hazel eyes once again, albeit filled with pain; they were the most beautiful thing in the world at that moment to Dean Winchester.

"How ya feeling, kiddo?"

"Like I've been broken, beaten, choked, and shot."

"Ha ha! Very funny, Sammy."

Sam grinned a bit, though it looked sort of sickly and grotesque with the bruising on his baby brother's face, and then closed his eyes only to feel that incessant shake again.

"Dean … ?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"I'm fine, Dean."

_Thanks to you._

Those words, however, went unspoken as Sam once again looked at Dean.

"I um … when you called, I … "

"Yeah … me too."

There was an awkward silence between them before Dean reached out and grasped Sam's good hand and squeezed.

"Don't ever do that again!"

"Do what?"

"Go missing like that."

"Yeah, you said last time you wouldn't come looking for me again."

"Yeah, well, this is your last time! Next time, I'm leaving your ass!"

"Yeah, right."

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Bobby glanced over as he heard the approach of silent footsteps. Lifting his chin in acknowledgement, he offered a waning smile to both Joshua and Gary.

"Did you take care of everything?"

The nonchalant question posed, Joshua raised a brow at Bobby, as if he'd ever not taken care of everything on a hunt.

"How's Sam?" Gary's voice cut into the silent battle of authority between Bobby and Joshua, drawing both hunters from their glares to come back to the present and to why they were all there.

"He's resting, or so the doc said. Dean's in with him now."

Joshua nodded; his mouth opening to say something before movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Turning his head just a bit, he spied the two police officers speaking to a doctor. Turning back to Bobby, he smirked.

"Time for damage control."

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Officer Johnson had been on the force for going on 18 years, so when he got the call from Dr. Martin, someone he knew personally as they'd both been in this pissant town nearly all their lives, but he honestly wasn't too tense. They were right off the beaten path, so there was always someone getting hurt by something or other that just demanded the attention of the boys in blue.

"I need you down at the hospital Ben."

"What is it this time? Another drunk driving accident?"

"No, nothing like that. We had a young man brought in earlier this evening by his brother and Uncle, beaten to hell, choked, his wrist broken, and shot in the leg."

"Is the man conscious? Can he remember who did this to him?"

Already he was grabbing his hat and keys and heading for the door, but Christopher Martin's next words had him stopping cold.

"Well, that's the thing … I think it was his brother and Uncle."

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"So this young man … ?"

"Sam Harper. He was brought in several hours ago."

Ben nodded and glanced to his young partner, a rookie just a few years out of the academy who had never done anything more exciting than issue a speeding ticket to people who had no intention of ever coming back to this one-horsed town.

"What exactly was the extent of his injuries?"

Christopher Martin ran a hand over his face as he let out an exhausted breath.

"He was beaten severely. He'd been shot in the leg. His wrist was broken. His shoulder had been dislocated. And he'd been choked. But that's not even the worst part."

"What could possible be worse, Chris?"

"The gunshot wound was several days old. The bullet had been _removed_."

The words hung there a moment before Benjamin Johnson turned to stare at his old friend.

"You mean … ?"

"This had been going on for days. They were keeping him alive in order to abuse him more."

Officer Johnson just stared before he finally found the words to ask his next question.

"What makes you suspect the brother and uncle?"

"_I'm not going to just sit here and wait for mom to die!?"_

Ben glanced to the two men who had, before now, been unobtrusive in their conversation as they waited for news on some family member in the hospital's Emergency Room waiting room. But, he easily dismissed them and turned back to the doctor.

"Well, Sam did."

"Did he say that?"

"_Why not? You certainly didn't mind waiting when dad died! That is, til you discovered he wrote you out of the will."_

Dr. Martin glanced over this time, studying the two men before turning back to Benjamin and his young partner.

"No, but he kept crying for him to stop. Over and over he said 'Make it stop, Dean' in this voice that made you ache. Never heard anything like it."

"What are you implying?"

This time the voice drew young Rick's attention, along with his two elder counter parts from their in-depth conversation of a man who was beaten by his own family.

"Nothing. Except that you're one sorry son of a bitch!"

"Not as sorry as you, you bastard!"

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It was almost forty-five minutes later when the two officers, led by Dr. Martin, proceeded down the stark white corridors to room 307 where Sam Harper was residing. With a knock to the door, the doctor pushed the door open and called cheerfully into the room.

"Mr. Harper?"

When only silence echoed, he flipped the light switch and proceeded into the room, followed by the men in blue, to the lump under the covers on the small hospital bed.

"Sam?"

Without an answer, he pulled the blanket back, preparing to rouse the sleeping man, only to find … more blankets.

"Shit!"

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"Hey, Sammy, wake up."

Sam lay motionless, the escape through the hospital taking what little energy he'd had in reserve. But, after another call from his brother, there was a faint groan before Sam Winchester opened his eyes to the blurry outline of his brother.

"Did we win?"

"Oh we so won, Sammy."

Pressing with his left hand, Sam tried to sit up, though only made it a few inches before he was falling back, but his decent was caught by Dean's guiding hands.

"Easy there, Sammy."

Sam swallowed, his hand still pressed to the back seat of the Impala as he tried to regain his bearings, the steady hand at his back soothing and reassuring. Finally he nodded.

"I'm good."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, Dean."

Nodding, Dean very slowly helped Sam to first sit, and then began the task of getting him out of the car. It was lackadaisical at best, but Sam was tenacious and Dean was patient and soon Sam was on his feet and leaning against the side of the Impala while Dean grabbed their duffle bags. Hoisting them over his shoulder, he moved back to his brother and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"You good, Sammy?"

Nodding, Sam leaned on Dean as he led him into their abode for the evening, a non-descript motel off the beaten path and as far away from Sunnydale as Dean dared to go. Dropping the bags just inside the room, Dean kicked backward to send the door closed as he led Sam to the second bed within the small room.

"Easy, Sammy, I got you."

Sam clutched at Dean with his one good hand as he was lowered to the bed, his eyes glazed for a few minutes until he regained his bearings. Finally, he sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes to look up into his brother's concerned face.

"I'm good."

Dean studied him a moment before nodding.

"God I need a shower."

Dean chuckled, slapped Sam's thigh, and then dropped to the other bed across from him.

"Easy, Tiger, one step at a time."

Sam groaned and looked down to make mention he was in blood stained jeans and a torn shirt when he noticed, for the first time, that he wasn't in his clothes. Looking back to Dean, his eyes narrowed.

"Dean … you took me out in a hospital gown?"

"Well, yeah, I had to make a quick escape, Sammy!" 

Sam started to agree, started to say that just getting out of there was what was important when he spied something. Glancing down, his eyes narrowed before he looked to his brother.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"What's that?"

Dean raised a brow, feigning complete innocence.

"What's what?"

"That!" Sam said pointing to his foot.

Dean looked down and then quickly rose and started rummaging through his duffle bag.

"Is that a toe tag, Dean?"

Snatching out his clothes, Dean high tailed it for the shower, his grin hidden as he turned.

"Dean, did you wheel me out through the morgue?"

Dean paused at the bathroom door and grinned to Sam.

"No need to thank me, Sammy."

"JERK!"

Just as the door closed behind him, Dean's voice echoed out into the motel room.

"BITCH!"

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Okay, so that's it! I hope I didn't disappoint anyone with the ending. I would like to thank each and every one of you that took the time to review, it really meant a lot to me. I'm already working on my next story, so any that are interested, it's titled Torn Asunder. Again, thanks all!!!!

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